


Let Us Live

by TakaGang



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conspiracy, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto Friendship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ninja Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Post-Fourth Shinobi War, The Uchiha Clan Deserved Better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakaGang/pseuds/TakaGang
Summary: Uncle Naruto thinks smiles will fix everything even if they're forced. Her mother dusts the cabinets like she wants to break them, and refuses to answer the questions that burn on Sarada's tongue. Her father is a mystery and an absence everyone tiptoes around.AU. Sarada is an Uchiha in every aspect.
Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 113
Kudos: 466
Collections: Extraordinary SNS Fics💕, Foxy fox 🦊





	1. What Is An Uchiha

Uchiha Sarada knows she is an Uchiha. 

She knows it because it its what everyone says. 

Her father is an Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke: that’s what everyone says at least. 

Sarada looks at the picture her mother set out on the table, and compares the dark haired man she’s never seen with her own reflection. He certainly looks more like Sarada than her mother. They have the same hair, and eyes. Her mother claims she doesn't know if her father ever wore glasses or not, but Naruto says he didn’t. When Sarada tries making the hard face the man did in the picture her mother’s face pinches at the corners of her lips, so she tries to always smile for her mother. The man in the picture, as both a boy and a young man, isn’t smiling. 

They are both Uchiha, but Sarada doesn’t know what to think of the man she’s never met. 

Old Man Kakashi teases her sometimes. 

“You look like your father when you pout like that!”

“ So grouchy today, Sarada. It’s your papa’s genes.”

“With the hair like that your his spitting image.”

She hears people say she isn’t like her father when she doesn't do so well on a test. Instructors who will frown in disappointment like they’d expected better from an Uchiha. Sarada always tries her best, but she isn’t anywhere near her father’s level. She doesn’t know why anyone expected her to be. 

Uncle Naruto never fails to babble for hours when she asks what her father is like, but she doesn’t really care that girls liked him. She thinks Uncle Naruto is lying when he says he was popular with the girls too. She doesn't even call him out on it. Letting him talk about Sasuke always gets his spirits up. Not many people want to talk about him, so Sarada takes what she can get. Naruto doesn't compare her to her father. He’ll sometimes get a look in his eye, like he's thinking about it, before trying out some lame joke to see if she’ll laugh. Sarada isn’t fooled. She sees the cheap joke book stashed in his desk. 

Her father is one of Naruto’s favorite topics of discussion, but it isn’t like that for everyone. 

Uchiha Sasuke is a scary word to some people.

Sarada sees it in the way someone might glance at her, a quick second take, before quickly averting their eyes. It's in the slight curl of someone’s lip that would only be abated if they thought one of the well known jonin are looking. No one would dare say anything with the Seventh Hokage or her mother beside her, but alone Sarada hears the word sharingan whispered, the voices shaking with a slight tremor. 

_Sharingan._

The copy wheel eyes. It its Kakashi who tells her what that is. The sharingan were the prized dojutsu of the Uchiha clan. The eyes she might someday wield, her father has them. Sarada stands in front of the mirror, nose to the glass, staring at the dark iris for any sign of red.

Sarada trails after Kakashi’s training session with Gai and badgers him for answers.

She asks, “Old Man, how come you know so much about the sharingan? Is it cause you were Papa’s teacher?”

Kakashi shrugs, “Mah, you know here and there you learn some things.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You know Sarada, you can call me Uncle Kakashi. I’m not that old so could you stop calling me old man.”

She refuses. 

He won’t do what she wants, so she won’t do what he wants. 

She yells loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hatake Kakashi is a really really old man! He’s a geezer! He’s ancient!”

Kakashi sighs deeply when Gai’s shouts about the power of youth answer back, coming closer at a rapid pace. 

Sarada figures Kakashi doesn't have any youth within him. If he did, he’d try and help her. 

She has many questions, but rarely receives any answers. 

She just wants to know. 

The symbol, painstakingly stitched onto the back of her clothes, is the symbol of the Uchiha: a red and white fan. 

Sarada asks her mother what it means, and gets a pat on the head and order to go play for her troubles. 

Why a fan of all things to symbolize a clan? 

A clan implied many. Sarada knows that. There is the Aburame clan, and the Yamanaka clan, and the Hyuuga among others. Chōchō has taken her to an Akimichi restaurant with her mother, and Sarada saw many members of the Akimichi clan. Elders pinch Chōchō’s cheeks, and always have treats to share. Shikadai complains about working on his clan jutsu’s, but prefers it when other children from his clan work with him. 

Sarada doesn't have elders or children that are Uchiha. 

She's alone. 

She is a member of the Uchiha clan, but she knows better than to ask where the other Uchiha were. No one will answer anyway. 

It has to be a secret because they talk about the Uchiha in class with the village founding, but with no mention of them after. They couldn’t have all just disappeared into thin air. Sarada wonders if it has anything to do with her father. Maybe it's why certain children won't play with her. If her father ever appears, Sarada thinks she can ask him but the idea makes her nauseous. Auntie Ino says she's too blunt and a lady needs to manage her words carefully. Sarada wants to use words well, especially since her sparring practices haven’t been as fruitful as her instructors hoped they’d be. So a good strong introduction to her father would be first on the list before any questions regarding their wayward clan. 

Sarada isn’t stupid. She knows they are probably all dead, but she still wants to know _why_. 

_What happened?_

People tell her she is an Uchiha. They have expectations for her as an Uchiha. They have reservations about her because she is an Uchiha. Sarada doesn't think there is anything wrong with being an Uchiha, it's simply what she is after all. 

She is an Uchiha, but she wants to know what that means. 


	2. Part of Being an Uchiha: Expectation

One part of being an Uchiha is regular meetings with the village elders. 

It has to be. Sarada knows no one else she knows has to have them, none of her peers, and Naruto doesn’t count being the Hokage. Her father surely can’t go to any meetings, not being in the village, but Sarada thinks if he were he’d probably have them too. 

The meetings are a requirement Sarada can’t avoid. She’s tried. Her mother doesn’t find it strange at all, and no amount of whining and attempts to run can get Sarada out of them. Sakura agrees without question and frog-marches Sarada off to her regularly scheduled meetings with the elders Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu. 

They are very important to the village, or so Shikadai’s dad argues. They’re supposed to help the Hokage and make decisions for the wellbeing of the village, but Sarada thinks there must be other people Naruto could have on his council instead. There has to be more trustworthy, smart, and wise people to take advice from then those geezers. They’re older than even Kakashi, and Sarada knows they can’t truly be any more wise. 

The elders look at her differently. 

Different even from how some people in the village look at her. 

Walking through the village always fills her with questions as she feels eyes boring into the symbol on her back. They whisper like she can’t hear them. It makes her want to duck her head, to say she’s sorry, even if she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for. She doesn’t think she’s so strange or rude to offend anyone, but no matter what she does it still happens.

Some people watch her like they’re afraid of her.

She figures it’s best to ignore it. That’s the advice Chōchō gives out, with a toss of her hair and stiff lip, when any of the other kids try to tease her about her weight. Sarada tries to hold up her chin and do the same, but it’s different with the elders. 

They never look afraid of her. They just look at her like she’s trash. 

Sarada tries to smile and hold her head high, but she never feels more small then when she’s examined under their harsh gaze. 

They don’t like her, but Sarada doesn’t even know what she did to make it so. 

Utatane speaks to her in an almost-friendly manner, but there’s a sternness to her words that never quite goes away. It’s like she’s trying to pretend they’re friends, but Sarada knows better. Everytime Utatane says Uchiha it sounds like the word is being spat off her tongue. 

Mitokado seems to see lack, always a lack, as his nostrils flare in annoyance. Never good enough, never proper enough, never strong enough: Sarada tries, but it’s never enough. 

Sarada wants to show her mother she’s respectful and well behaved, but every meeting is a test to her patience and will. 

“The academy is too soft these days, just look at her.”

Utatane sniffs. “All skin and bones even for an Uchiha.”

“Neither her Father or Uncle were so...” Mitokado scans over the papers in front of him bringing it close to his face to see. “below par at such an age.”

Sarada asks about her uncle. Utatane wacks her cane against her ankles for speaking out of turn. 

Sarada shoves down any grumbles and doesn’t even reach down to rub at her stinging ankle. She does fine. Not the best, but some things in the academy just aren’t her strong suit. She likes reading, and history well enough. Her math is decent even if it’s not as good as Boruto’s. 

It just _has_ to be shinobi skills they focus on, but Sarada isn’t very invested in them. 

Once, she told her mother she doesn’t like violence. 

It didn’t really do much. 

She still got a shrunken set for her birthday, but at least Uncle Suigetsu mailed a shark plushie for his present. 

She isn’t sure how to explain it to anyone. She sees other children sparring, practicing with their kunai, and it makes her uneasy. She doesn’t think she’s the strongest fighter, but trying to be doesn’t sit well either. 

Her father is said to be a very strong man. Some say he’s stronger than an entire army of men. Even with one arm, he could take down mountains. 

Sarada isn’t sure what to make of such claims.

People say the same thing about Naruto. 

As the Hokage, Sarada assumes he must be pretty strong, but she’s only even seen the man who drools in his sleep and stacks empty noodle cups when he’s avoiding paperwork. He has Kurama, but the old fox doesn’t seem that scary either. 

Kurama sometimes makes faces at Sarada, Naruto’s eyes slitted and gleaming a ominous reddish-orange, when she sneaks into Naruto’s office to find him asleep. 

Maybe to some people that’s scary. 

Most people don’t have a grouchy magic fox in their head, or more accurately in a seal on their stomach, but everyone’s different. 

Iruka-sensei always says everyone’s different in their own special ways. 

Utatane and Mitokado apparently never learned that. 

Mitokado grumbles about the state of Konoha’s youth and wishes things were like how they used to be. Utatane agrees and points out every slight she sees in Sarada as a pinnacle example of the decay in Konoha shinobi. 

Sarada resists the urge to curl her lip and endures. 

Utatane asks. “Girl, have you been training sufficiently outside academy hours?”

“I have a name.” Sarada replies. 

She has to side step the incoming cane swipe. 

“Show proper respect to your elders,” she snaps. “As horrible as manners as your father.”

Sarada mumbles. “Can’t know the manners of a man I haven’t met.”

She doesn’t dodge the next smack. 

Mitokado pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You, girl, will be a shinobi of Konoha. You must strive to serve your village in your utmost capacity. It is a duty and honor to forge yourself into a shinobi capable of protecting the village and its inhabitants. I don’t truly believe you are pursuing this goal with the rigor it requires.” 

Utatane huffs. “Lazy children with no concept of hard work! One would think an Uchiha could manage combat skills at the very least!”

Sarada considers telling them the truth. 

She doesn’t ‘pursue the goal with the rigor it requires’ because she doesn’t want to pursue it all. 

She doesn’t think she can be a great shinobi. 

Hearing stories of her father’s prowess mean nothing to her. For her, it’s like hearing folklore tales. From the bits and pieces she’d managed to gather, many Uchiha were apparently exceptional shinobi. She wants to be strong like them. She truly does. Still, no matter how much the jonin around her talk about the jutsu they know or their missions that sound like grand adventures the prospect unsettles her. She goes to the academy classes to please her mother, but can’t bring herself to commit to more than that. 

She doesn’t _want_ to be a shinobi. 

Apparently, Uchiha aren’t supposed to want that. 


	3. The Seventh Hokage Uzumaki Naruto

Uzumaki Naruto is the Seventh Hokage. He’s often called the Hero of Konoha.

Sarada wonders if there is something in the water that makes people think that. She certainly wouldn’t have voted for him if given the choice.

The only Naruto she knows is a bit of a sad sack. Sarada can tell he works hard for the village, but it doesn’t seem like he enjoys it. He’s always buried in paperwork, and sometimes Sarada tries helping him look it over only to find herself just as bored. All the filler words and jargon piled into documents talking about new regulations for fences are as fun as watching paint dry. Naruto’s eyes glaze over as he struggles his way through the small kanji, and he usually slips into a doze before he can even finish a full scroll. Even as he struggles to stay awake through the night to continue working, all it seems to do is increase the depth of the dark shadows under his eyes. His ethic is admirable, but the toll can’t be worth the gain. If anything, having to deal with the elders in a professional capacity is enough of a detriment.

Naruto had always been a constant presence in her life. He dropped by her house to check in on her, occasionally bearing gifts and usually a broad smile plastered on his face. His smile would get more strained with each passing year. With each year whenever her mother dragged her to the Uzumaki house, Naruto wouldn’t be there. He’s at work, Hinata would say, as Boruto grumbled and stomped up to his room. The importance of being Hokage for the sake of the village, she explains. Sarada snuck out, late at night, to find Naruto curled up asleep on the floor of his office. One time she found him eating at Ichiraku as he played the handheld game, he’d taken from Boruto.

She only judged him the one time he found him cradling a bottle of sake, drunk off his ass. Sakura had a late-night surgery; she wouldn’t care if Naruto crashed on their couch. Sarada didn’t bother to ask but figured her mother didn’t mind visits from old friends.

Sarada doesn’t know why he didn’t want to go home.

She feels like it’s not her place to ask, so she doesn’t.

For all intents and purposes, his wife Hinata seems perfect. That’s what everyone says. They say she’s the perfect wife anyone could want, and a wonderful mother. She’s beautiful with long flowing hair, and her boxes lunches are adorable and nutritious. That’s what Sarada heard some of the nurses at the hospital say. Hanging around the nurse’s station gets Sarada the good gossip, but she also hears the hottest topic: the Hokage’s family. They talk about the children. Cute and sweet Himawari who accompanies her mother to put flowers on her uncle’s grave, and energetic and smart Boruto. Sarada likes Himawari, but she’s more skeptical of Hinata. Hinata asked her once, with a shy smile, if she has a crush on Boruto. Sarada doesn’t have much against Hinata, but she _can’t_ forgive that.

Boruto’s not even _that_ bad himself. He’s decent—most of the time. He usually has good intentions, but Sarada doesn’t get along with him. He’s smart and knows it. It makes him a bit cocky. Sarada hears her mother’s comments to Naruto about how ironic it is Naruto’s son is top of the class just like Sasuke: the ‘compared to his daughter’ was there, even if it went unsaid. Everyone still likes Boruto. He’s always making friends and has the Hyuuga clan to turn to for advice. His grandfather praises him endlessly.

Some of the Hyuuga turn up their noses at her, but Boruto’s grandfather is much more blatant about it. Sarada knows nothing of her Uchiha grandfather, and while Sakura’s father is nice, he’s always awkward around her. They still must be better than Boruto’s Hyuuga grandfather, Hiashi. She can usually differentiate between the Hyuuga that don’t mind her and the one’s that do usually by their foreheads. The one’s who cover their forehead are usually nice. Boruto’s grandfather always makes comments asking when Uchiha Sasuke will be returning from his _mission_. He puts emphasis on the word mission and makes pointed comments about her father’s character. Even Sakura’s choice to associate with him comes under scrutiny. He only stops when Naruto hears and gets irritated with him. Then Boruto berates his father for “being rude” to his grandfather. Sakura lets any comments about Sasuke run off her like water, but with Naruto it’s different. Sasuke is the one topic that can really put a fire in Naruto’s tired eyes.

Sarada doesn’t mind. Naruto’s stories of the good old days are better than Hiashi’s barbs any day.

She calls Naruto her uncle, but she considers him more of a friend. It’s not that he isn’t responsible or a solid figure to look up to, but he usually doesn’t want to play the grown-up role with her. Chōchō asked if she’d ever thought Naruto was her father when she was younger. He was around so often growing up anyone could make that mistake. Chōchō herself had tried for a time to convince her mother Akimichi Choji couldn’t possibly be her father. Her Uncle Omoi was much cooler and brought her treats from Kumo. She wanted _him_ to her father. Her actual father spent a week trying to appeal to his daughter and overcome his hurt feelings.

Sarada never thought Naruto was her father because while she doesn’t have much experience with fathers, she doesn’t think watching the timer as Naruto tries to create a pen tower as fast as he can is very fatherly. But then again, she doesn’t think she can be considered an expert. She doesn’t mind looking out for Naruto, even if it means their roles are reversed. If it came down to it, he’d so the same for her. She wants him to be happy. No one else really seems to see how sad Naruto looks. He works too much, doesn’t sleep enough, and doesn’t eat enough even as he starts to paunch in the middle.

Hanging out with Naruto is one of Sarada’s favorite parts of the day. Meals taste better when shared anyway.

There is a good teriyaki shop that doesn’t mind her coming in alone. By some of the men she sees wandering around the lobby, it must be a front for some sort of criminal business. It isn’t uncommon to see a group of men in good suits come in through the back doors. Unmarked boxes get carried in and out at odd hours as someone casually smoking watches from the next street. Sometimes the younger boys with gelled hair and messy ties wave at her. She waves back just to be polite, and sometimes her order gets paid for before she goes to the counter.

The shops tofu noodle bowl is tasty enough for anyone to look the other way on something simple like tax evasion. It’s a pretty nice place, so Sarada goes often.

Sarada slips quietly through the office door. It’s easy enough to avoid Shikamaru if he’s out for his smoke break. He takes enough of them. The Hokage tower is quieter during lunch time, so it’s easy to get around without being disturbed. Naruto doesn’t lift his head from his desk he only grumbles something that vaguely sounds like go away.

“I can’t leave. I can’t eat all this food on my own.”

She slides a Styrofoam box across Naruto’s desk. Its journey is stopped by his resting head. She keeps gently nudging it forward until Naruto chuckles and sits up.

“Smells good, Sarada. You didn’t have to bring me lunch though.”

“I got you beef teriyaki, and some gyoza to share.” Sarada takes a seat on top of his desk and opens her own lunch on her lap. “I have tea in a thermos if you want some, but the shops soda machine is broke, so they gave me a water for ya.”

Naruto separates his chopsticks. “Thanks, kiddo. What’d you get?”

“Spicy chicken. The guy working the counter today told me it’s very spicy!”

Naruto nods and tries to sneakily move his chopsticks into her container. Sarada rolls her eyes and moves the box closer. He pops the piece of chicken into his mouth, chews contemplatively, before coughing. His face twists in a grimace as he struggles to open his water. Chugging it in visible gulps, Naruto sticks out his tongue like he can survey the damage after the chicken is finally swallowed.

Sarada laughs. “You’re a baby.”

“You have no taste bubs left. They’re all burned off!” Naruto scraps his tongue on his teeth like it will help him at all. “Where’s the restaurant you always go to anyway?”

“It’s called Wayo, and it’s over near that one armor place and the laundry mat.”

Naruto raises a brow. “In upper or lower Konoha?”

“Upper…” Sarada mumbles.

“I’m pretty sure there’s quite a few numbers of places children like you shouldn’t be going around there.” Naruto points at her with his chopsticks and Sarada refrains from reminding him how rude that is.

She shrugs. “It isn’t my fault those business types wander into other night-life businesses. I’ve met many wonderful working women. Miss. Aimi let me paint her nails when I was waiting for my order once.”

“ _Sarada!_ ”

“Kakashi used to let me paint his nails all the time, but he’s been busy.”

“I don’t want you to not get into any trouble, Sarada!”

Sarada stuffs her mouth with rice and grumbles sarcastically. “Like that’s _easy_ with Boruto around.”

Naruto sighs and sets his food aside. Sarada glares because he never finishes his meals like he’s supposed to, but he just taps her nose in response. “Boruto can be a bit…much.” He rubs his neck almost embarrassed. “Everyone says he’s just like me, ya know. I know he looks just like me, coloring is spot on, but I know he didn’t get his brains from me. Iruka-sensei was taking to me about his work and his Hyuuga tutors never stop. I know he can be…maybe a bit rude sometimes, but I think he means well.”

“He’s your kid you don’t have to convince me. I know he’s not that bad, but you should’ve seen what happened in class the other day. Inojin was so mad, but he didn’t even twitch or nothing. He just smiled. Boruto did get something from you and it’s the ability to put his foot in his mouth.”

“Hey, I don’t do that!” Naruto complains.

Sarada asks. “Two weeks ago, when you had a meeting with a council of Suna shinobi. Lord Gaara had to do damage control and then wouldn’t speak to you until you apologized _well_ , and he likes you more than most. You tend to step on people’s toes and that comes off as too forceful.”

“Give me your wisdom then oh great diplomatic mind!” He says. “I have a meeting with the Aburame later today and I’m pretty sure Shino only tolerates me.”

“It’s cause you always forget him. It makes him sad.” Sarada chews her chicken and tries to figure the best approach. Inojin had an etiquette tutor who’d let her sit in on lessons, and the public relations aspects were always her favorite. She replies. “The Aburame prefer quiet conversation over your usual bull-in-a-china shop technique. Politeness is good for anyone. Just …don’t be too overbearing and leave room for _them_ to speak their piece.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. It shouldn’t be too hard after meetings with Hiashi, huh? He’s real harsh sometimes. Sometimes it feels like he wants it his way or no way.” Naruto laughs, but it’s clearly forced. Sarada doesn’t even try to smile.

She wonders if she should tell Naruto what she’d heard. People always talk.

She’d heard a few young men, the box carriers, talking on their lunch break. She tried to tune out their usual crude talk until she caught Naruto’s name. They’re discussion had turned from women to clan politics. Sarada could only get bits and pieces, but the message was clear.

Some people think of Naruto as a puppet, a fool: strong in battle, and a good heart, but unfit to lead.

Many people don’t trust Hiashi, and believe Naruto is apart of whatever game he’s playing.

Sarada watches Naruto hide his lunch under his desk when the door creaks open. Shikamaru pokes his head in and asks how work is going. Naruto absentmindedly shuffles through papers and says it’s going great. Shikamaru gives Sarada a look to get off the desk and tells Naruto he needs to check in on something Temari called about. Naruto nods as he keeps his eyes on his papers.

He isn’t even looking at any paperwork. It’s an old take-out menu.

Sarada rests her chin on her hand and takes it all in. Naruto isn’t that old, but he looks older than he should. Maybe it’s the haircut. It’s too short for his face, but Naruto claims Hinata thinks it’s very mature. Naruto sees her looking at him and shoots her a quick smile. It’s small, but it has a glimmer of light his fake grins can’t imitate.

She asks. “Uncle Naruto…do you think I’m like my father at all? Everyone says I look like him, but am I _like_ him.”

Naruto sets down his pen. His doodle of Shikamaru is shoved under his laptop. Naruto leans back in his chair, cradling the back of his head on his hands, and sighs. “That’s a bit difficult, I guess. Everyone’s a different person, ya know, but I guess if I had to choose one thing…”

Sarada leans in closer.

“You’re both kind. Not really gentle, and not kind in the way people expect, but in your own ways you’re both very kind.”

Sarada blushes and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Says you, I suppose. Kindness and doing the right thing aren’t interchangeable.”

She doesn’t want Naruto to be a fool, even if people think he is. She doesn’t know how she can help him, but she wants to try. She wants to take the weight off his back that bends it. She wants to poke away the furrow in his brow. No one needs the sadness that weights down his bones.

Maybe that’s his idea of kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Tsunade the babysitter and Sarada's path to uncovering the past truly begins. Hope you all are staying safe.


	4. Part of Being an Uchiha: Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsunade isn't the best babysitter, but it sets Sarada further on her path to finding out what being an Uchiha means not only to herself, but to others who knew them before their demise.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get started.”

Sarada shuffles through her papers and looks over the motley group in front of her. Her stuffed animals sit lined up at the table in their designated seats. The shark Captain Yonda sits across from Kitty the Cat. A small floppy rabbit with button eyes that Sarada had neglected to name falls over onto the floor. Kakashi says practice makes perfect, but Sarada is starting to doubt that. Practicing presenting ideas sounded like a good idea, but she’s sure it will be different with actual people. Public speaking is different with plushies. Stuffed animals never disagree. The plush frog Naruto won her at the festival last year seems to stare with its empty glass eyes, but it’s probably just her imagination.

Sarada frowns. “This meeting might need to be adjourned early. I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

Peeking her head around the corner, Sarada’s mother surveys the toys and Sarada trying to look professional with a smile. She walks into the dining room and asks. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, I was in a meeting, but I’m done now. What do you want?”

Sakura picks up the dinosaur seated at the head of the table. “Oh, what’s Mr. Dino up to?” She teases. “Was he leading this meeting?”

“That’s Mr. Rawry, Mama, and no I’m leading it.”

Sakura chuckles and sets the plushie back down. “Okay, okay. Well, I’m sorry for interrupting your game, but I needed to tell you I’ll be going to the Mist for a couple days. It won’t be that long there’s just a specialized surgery they need me to assist with. Lady Tsunade said she’d be happy to babysit you while I’m gone.”

Sarada bristles. “Babysit? I’m not a baby! I don’t need a babysitter!”

Sakura takes the seat the unnamed rabbit vacated and opens her arms. Sarada rolls her eyes at the blatant demand for affection but concedes. She slinks over and lets her mother pull her onto her lap. Sakura hugs her tightly and Sarada lets out a soft laugh.

Her mother loves her, she doesn’t doubt that. Sarada loves her too. Sakura works a lot, but still tries to see her as often as she can. Sarada hangs out in the hospital waiting room sometimes just to get a quick glimpse, hello, or lunch together if she’s lucky. Sakura is a bit like Naruto in that respect, always busy, but much more content with it. She likes it when Sarada tries help her clean around the house and cook dinner, but Sarada thinks she just isn’t overly fond of doing those things alone. She pretends she _does_ because Hinata does, tries hard to be the perfect homemaker, but Sarada wishes she wouldn’t. No one _really_ likes cleaning anyway. She really doesn’t mind helping to cook either, especially since Chōchō taught her some fun tricks.

Sarada still thinks it seems like there’s something missing. The tightness at the corner of her mother’s eyes when she asks certain questions, particularly about her father, is the biggest clue. Sakura is happy enough, so long as Sarada doesn’t ask about him. Some questions she doesn’t seem to know how to answer. Some Sakura refuses to answer. She doesn’t like getting her mother worked up about it. Her temper tends to impact the bills if the house gets the brunt of it. Sarada stuck a contractor’s number to the fridge, but she’d rather not have to use it.

Sakura brushes her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “No, you’re getting too big, even if you’ll always be _my_ baby. But I don’t want you getting too lonely while I’m gone.”

“What about Old Man Kakashi?” She argues. “I could just hang out with Naruto too.”

Sakura replies. “He told me he has go with Gai outside the village today, and Naruto’s probably very busy. You should leave him to his work. Lady Tsunade really wants to see you too. Promise you’ll be on your best behavior for her?”

Sarada sighs and remembers the last time she saw Tsunade. The scent of beer lingered on her favorite jacket too long for her liking.

“Will she be on her best behavior?”

Sakura winces like she doubts the thought but tries to give Sarada a reassuring smile anyway. “I’ll ask, but we’ll see. Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

Sarada mumbles against her mother’s shoulder. “A dad would be nice…”

Sakura is not amused, but lets it go when Sarada gives her a grin that would Naruto proud.

“I’ll miss you, Mama. You should have a nice trip!”

Even though she doesn’t ask, Sarada helps her mother pack and get the house ready for Tsunade. Sakura hides her stash of wine and puts away some of the most breakable knickknacks. Sakura tells her to not let Tsunade borrow money if she asks, and Sarada nods solemnly as she puts her piggybank underneath her bed. She hides the little bottle of perfume Auntie Karin send her underneath t-shirts. She doesn’t want Granny Tsunade to take it. Senju Tsunade was the Fifth Hokage before Kakashi was the Sixth. Comparing how the both act now, Sarada is building the theory that the Hokage position makes people weird.

Naruto is certainly headed in that direction, or maybe he’s already there.

“Don’t worry, Sakura, she’s in good hands!”

Tsunade slaps her hand on top of Sarada’s head. Sarada struggles to stand under the pressure but Tsunade just laughs and ruffles her hair.

Sakura adjusts her bag on her shoulder. “I’m not worried. Just make sure she goes to bed on time and try to get her to leave Naruto alone. If you need anything Hinata can help, and I’m sure Boruto and Himawari wouldn’t mind the company. Ino too; Sarada’s closer to Inojin.”

Tsunade waves her off. “How old do you think I am, brat. I can handle one measly kid. Get going. We’ll be fine!”

“Okay, be good, Sarada. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Sarada stands at the door behind Tsunade and waves. “Bye, bye, Mama. Be safe.”

As soon as the door shuts, Tsunade asks. “Hey, kid, where’s your ma keep the booze in this place?”

Lying won’t help, so it’s better to just get it over with.

“It’s on top of the fridge.”

“Bitchin.”

Back when Sarada was very small and hadn’t yet met Lady Tsunade she heard the stories. Tsunade of the Sannin seemed larger than life: a living legend. The most powerful frontline medic, who trained Sakura to be the same, and kept herself looking young through a jutsu of her own design seemed too impossible to even imagine. Meeting Tsunade shattered that illusion of grandeur.

The smushing hugs between her generous bust always left Sarada ruffled. Tsunade’s muscular arms would pick her up and throw her into the air like she was a ball. There was no doubting her strength or her beauty. She had a jewel seal on her forehead, just like Sakura’s, framed by soft blond hair, but the first impression was ruined by a sour burp to the face. Tsunade apologized, but only after letting out a hearty belly laugh at the look on Sarada’s face.

“Look at that!” She exclaimed. “That scowl reminds me of your Uchiha grandpa’s ma. That bitch was such a hardass!”

Sarada decided to not have too many expectations for people after that.

Tsunade sprawls across the couch like it’s her own house. She at least grabbed a glass instead of just drinking out of the bottle, but Sarada figures the deeper she goes into the bottle the less necessary the glass will become. She asks why the hell there are stuffed animals at the table, but before Sarada can answer Tsunade is demanding to know where the remote is. Sarada takes it out from the hall table drawer and hands it over. She turns on the ceiling fan when asked, grabs a bag of chips for her, and curls her lips into a snarl when Tsunade asks her for a foot rub.

Tsunade laughs. “Geez, I was just joking.” She flips through the channels a bit before finding a game show. “Hard work never hurt anyone. You’re on some break-day for school aren’t ya? You don’t even have any homework to do right now? Back in my day, we didn’t have shit like that.”

 _Back in her day_ , they probably didn’t have television either. Sarada grimaces as Tsunade drops crumbs of chips onto the rug. She knows they had manners back in _her day._

Tsunade continues. “You brats haven’t known war or combat. You’re all soft.” She swirls her glass around like looking into it will reveal unknown secrets. “It kind of seems like a good thing. It does! A real good thing but…I don’t know. To be honest with you it kind of makes me wonder why you’ll even be shinobi one day. Us geezers don’t even know what peace is, so how can we bring it. Shinobi aren’t tools of peace. I’ll tell you that much. But…you’re gonna graduate from your academy with your break-days, festivals, and projects still learning kunai and jutsu. Then we’ll slap some headbands on you and call you the shinobi and kunoichi of tomorrow.”

Sarada sits down on her mother’s favorite pink footstool. “I don’t wanna…”

Tsunade raises a brow. “Wanna what?”

“Be a shinobi.” Sarada replies.

“Tough tits.”

Sarada startles at the harsh reply.

Tsunade takes a long swig of wine before she speaks. “You were damned the moment you were born, kid, and I’m not saying that to be cruel. You were sired by the wrong father at the wrong time. You got that symbol on your back. I don’t think your kind will ever know peace. Hell, probably none of us will.”

“ _My kind?”_

“The Uchiha are dead, munchkin. It’s just you and your old man now. And, where is he?”

Tsunade’s bluntness stings, but Tsunade is trying to get her to grasp reality more than anyone else had. It’s more than vague answers, more than avoidance, more than looks of disgust. It’s a cold answer, but it makes sense.

Sarada touches the Uchiwa adorning her back. “What’s my symbol mean? The Uchiha. How can I not be… _damned_?”

Her mouth hesitates on damned, but mostly because swearing is something her mother does _not_ abide.

Tsunade shrugs. “Fuck if I know. I’m a Senju. You’d probably be better off asking anyone else but me. And well…I guess the only way not to be damned is to crawl out of hell yourself, climb until your fingers bleed and then keep climbing. I wouldn’t really know. I don’t know if any of us ever make it out this hellhole, not alive at least.

She flicks the nose on Sarada’s downtrodden face. “The past hurts more often than not, so don’t be bothered if you have trouble figuring it all out. Hell, it might be why your deadbeat of a dad ain’t around.”

“Not a deadbeat.” Sarada replies automatically.

“I’m speaking from one wanderer to another.” She points her sharp nailed finger directly into Sarada’s face. “You don’t run unless you got something to run from, and usually it’s yourself or something that hurts.”

Sarada doesn’t ask if her father is running from her. She doesn’t want to know.

“Mama and Uncle Naruto say he’s on a very important mission.”

“That’s what they all say. It’s a mission or cigarettes, always. Those two say whatever helps them sleep at night. My sensei was the exact same way.”

Sarada tucks her trembling lip into her mouth. She hopes Tsunade doesn’t see it, but knows she does by the softened look in her eyes.

Tsunade says. “Don’t worry about it, short stack. It’s all probably grown-up stuff you won’t understand and might still not understand even once you’re all grown too. But their business is their business. I’m sorry about the cigarette thing and the damned thing, okay, that was mean.” She hands Sarada a chip as recompense and Sarada takes it, chewing morosely. Tsunade pats the top of her head, softer than usual but still firm. “Wanna know a secret?”

Sarada nods.

“I do remember once thing my own grandfather used to tell me about the Uchiha. He said those Uchiha love with their whole heart.” She smiles and brushes her thumb underneath Sarada’s eye. “So Uchiha, dead or not, your dad here or not. You’ll be okay. Your mother might not carry your symbol or the same name, but she loves you. I know Naruto loves you to bits, and I’m sure your dad probably does too.”

_But not enough to be here._

Adults always say things like that when children cry, but Sarada accepts it for the attempt at comfort that it is.

Tsunade mumbles into her glass. “Though really, I don’t know why your Ma couldn’t get a real picture of your old man. That one on the mantle looks like a damn mugshot from when he was a kid.” She snorts. “I know this one young doctor at the small hospital out in Hot Water and I’ve been trying to give Sakura his number, but she won’t take it. It’s not like whatever charade she has with the Uchiha is any fun. Maybe I should give her some girls’ numbers. I never asked. Maybe that’d work better.”

Sarada blinks unsure how to reply. _“What?”_

“Uh…” Tsunade turns the TV volume up and pours herself another glass of wine. “Nothing, nothing! I’m just talking. You know, the booze going to my head. Go to your room. Pick up your toys—that mess in the dining room. Don’t you have chores to do or something?”

Sarada knows a dismissal when she hears one.

She drags her feet up the stairs with all her stuffed animals piled into her arms.

A few answers only bring about more questions.

It only takes an hour before Tsunade calls Sarada back downstairs.

“I’m bored! I’m bored! I’m bored!”

Tsunade flicks through the TV channels at rapid speed until she pauses on a poker game. Her eyebrows shoot up like she just got an idea. She leans over the couch to try and look up into the entry hall. She yells the best she can toward the stairs. “Sarada, come on! Get your ass in gear we’re heading out.”

“Heading out where?” Sarada asks, “aren’t you supposed to be babysitting me?”

“It’s still babysitting if I take the baby.” She shrugs on her haori and sweeps the chip crumbs off her front. “There’s this gambling house I wanted to check out in Upper Konoha. You’re coming with.”

“Granny, are we supposed to do that?”

“Sure! Think of it as a field trip. You know how to play cards at all?”

“I can play a lot of board games cause Shikadai wanted someone to play Go with, and this one really old nurse at the hospital taught me how to play mahjong. I like Koi-koi too.” Sarada replies.

Tsunade rubs her chin in thought. “Okay, okay. We can work with that. I’m feeling pachinko lucky today. We’ll start there. You’ll be my lucky charm!”

Sarada never thought of herself as very lucky.

She shuffles behind Tsunade as she leads her into the gambling house. The bright neon lights flash on the pachinko games with plush highbacked chairs in front of them. Tsunade walks down the row of games and takes a seat next to a young woman with a bob. The woman pops her gum in response when Sarada says hello. Sarada squats next to Tsunade for a while as she plays until she grows bored. She watches the dealers and waiters in their fancy vests and bowties go about their business and walks around to look at the other gambler’s games until a man glares at her and tells her to run to her mommy.

She should’ve brought a book.

Thankfully, Tsunade eventually has her fill of the game, and probably her lack of luck. She doesn’t win a thing. They walk into the next open room filled with card tables and roulette. Tsunade throws herself into a new game with vigor and a rub of Sarada’s head for luck. Sarada stands beside her patiently until the urge to fidget takes a more _urgent_ turn.

“Granny, I have to pee”

Tsunade tells her to go on before she ruins her pants. As she shakes her dice, she reminds Sarada to remember to wash her hands. The intimating high ceilings and glitter of the casino make the place seem too big to navigate. Sarada whirls her head around for any sigh of a restroom. It’s too embarrassing to ask one of the workers. A toilet really shouldn’t be hard to find in a public place. She doesn’t mean to peak into a private room, but the door is cracked slightly, so she checks to make sure it isn’t a hall leading to the restrooms. It isn’t. It’s a private card room. Sarada gasps when all eyes of the room turn to her. One man stands at the door with a sword on his hip. He looks down at her surprised with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. It looks close to falling out with how much he’s gaping.

“I’m sorry! I was looking for the bathroom!” Her voice squeaks.

An old man, with sharp cheekbones and deep wrinkles on his forehead, looks over his shoulder at her. His white button down is folded up beside him leaving his back bare showing off an intricate tattoo: an enormous teal dragon flying on a blue floral sky with golden koi fish swimming down up his arms. Sarada notes the dragon’s eyes are gone, a white cloth tattooed across them, with a deep old burn marking the spot. He jerks his head to a woman in sharp blazer and trousers.

“Wanibuchi, see that Little Lady Uchiha gets to the proper facilities, then bring her back here.”

Sarada follows the woman asked to escort her and doesn’t think about the old man knowing her name until she’s washing her hands. She considers running back to Tsunade but the woman, Wanibuchi, is waiting at the bathroom door.

She doesn’t want the woman to get in any trouble.

Sarada politely bows when she returns the room. “I’m apologize for the intrusion. I didn’t even introduce myself earlier. My name is Uchiha Sarada.”

“I am Kazama Noritaka, a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sarada. No apologies needed.” He gestures to the three other men studying their cards. They are as grizzled and stern as he. A few younger men and a couple women stand sentinel at the walls, casually drinking and smoking as they quietly chatter to one another. “Pay no attention to my compatriots. It’s Manabu’s turn and he’s still figuring out his next move.” Sarada nods and turns to leave, but Mr. Kazama won’t have it.

“Sit, sit. Indulge an old man, won’t you?” He turns to the young people. “One of you get Lady Sarada a drink!”

They move very quickly from messing around to fulfilling his orders at the drop of a hat.

He slams his fist on the table. “Not the whisky you, dolt!”

“Tea is fine, thank you.”.

Sarada doesn’t know what to make of Mr. Kazama. He smiles when she accepts the tea with a quiet thank you, and then continues with his card game. She feels awkward just sitting there but knows it would be extremely rude to just leave. The young people pay her no mind, and the old men are too busy with their cards. She sips her tea as she thinks. There’s no doubt about it. Her mother wouldn’t be happy if she found out Sarada stumbled into a yakuza card came, but she doesn’t _have_ to tell her mother. If she tells her mother it would get back to Naruto, and he already worries when she goes out to eat. Tsunade _had_ said to find other people to talk about the Uchiha.

Mr. Kazama chuckles, his eyes crinkling under his apple-cheeked grin. Sarada figures he has a good card hand, so she doesn’t ask what is so funny, but he answers without prompting.

“You look like your grandfather when you think, same stern frown. Captain Fugaku—yes, he was a stern one. Back when I was young, I remember him shoving me into the drunk tank more than once. You couldn’t bribe him out of any misdemeanor! I hated a few of the detectives. We all did, after all that Yashiro was a stiff. But, Captain Fugaku drew his line and stuck to it. I respect that in a man. Living a shinobi village ain’t for the faint of heart, especially those like us without fancy jutsu and the like but doesn’t seem like you lot have it much better. Not many would want to protect people in their position. It’s trouble enough to make shinobi follow rules, but they certainly tried.”

The old man in glasses nods as he sets down his play. He must be Manabu. “If I remember correctly, they were assigned to the police force anyway. They had other officers who weren’t Uchiha until they didn’t have anywhere else to assign their own men. They had to let those people go, didn’t they?”

Mr. Kazama agrees. “Yeah, yeah, I remember that, I think.”

Sarada asks. “My grandpa, Fugaku, would there be anything in the library or archives about him?

One of the old men playing cards, bald and bearded, adds. “Don’t know if those masked people hadn’t cleared any mention of them out. That Uchiha, he was chief of police, but he was fair. He’d let his officers look the other way on occasion when it came to important stuff. You’ve probably never been hungry, girl, but a lot of them understood. That wife of his, Mikoto, she ran around with a lot of our boys when she was a girl not much older than you. And she remembered that.

Mr. Manabu says. “Oh, do you remember the missing children? They got right on that case, not like those ANBU. Nowadays, you can’t report anything. If a shinobi robs a civilian, then they’ll brush off any concerns like it’s nothing. They don’t care if an old woman thinks someone is trespassing in her garden. It’s all big shinobi battles, and treason with them. The Uchiha could at least swallow their pride to get cats out of trees!”

“Some of the old lot went to the police for help back then,” Mr. Kazama explains. “Kids were going missing, orphans and the kids who run about in what used to be the red-light district. Old fish wives’ sons, and bloodline bastards, you know the like. You were safe enough if you had the money to live in a good merchant place, or a recognizable shinobi family, but anyone else was up for grabs. They say some of them became part of that Orochimaru’s experiments. Hard to say really, the Uchiha were looking into it, but reported back to the boss they were getting stopped at every turn. Makes one suspect their village ain’t gonna help when it comes down to it, ya know.”

Sarada shivers as she imagines all the horrors: parents never seeing their children again, skinny tear stained faces, and bloody examination tables. She sits down her tea as her stomach turns. Sarada knows in passing some of the children in the outskirts of Lower Konoha and in the apartments of Upper Konoha: the soot ridden blacksmith boy who smiles shyly when she asks what he’s working on, the laundromat owners small children, the girl who dropped out of the academy in their first year to take care of her mother. She wouldn’t want to see any of them missing. Her mother helped put together several programs to help orphans and Naruto made sure orphanage got funds, but still sometimes kids will get overlooked.

“Boss, I think you’re upsetting her.”

Mr. Kazama glares at the subordinate who dared speak out of turn. He turns back to her with his prior glare nowhere to be seen. “Come on, now, no sad faces. Forgot you’re practically a babe. How about I tell you something else, hm? Ya see this dragon on my back” He points to his naked back, the nobs of his spine visible. “You know anything about dragons?”

“No, sir.”

Mr. Kazama sets down his cards and crosses his arms in a huff. “You should. They’ve always been mighty important to the Uchiha. The dragon and phoenix, both of freedom and fire, locked in a never-ending dance. The dragon also means prosperity, a blessing for strength and wisdom. Lotta Uchiha used to get the dragon or a phoenix. Though remember your grandmother got Raijin marked on her. I can’t remember the process for figuring out if someone chooses dragon or phoenix, but it was like you know people putting out objects to see what their baby will value. It was like that, I think. I remember the tattoo practice was outlawed so only the older ones had it. Bit hard to go sneaking around inked when any medic could see it for the shinobi.”

Mr. Manabu says. “They used a technique that involved smoldering ash, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they did. They did.”

Sarada doesn’t want to be rude, but the question burns inside her so fiercely it slips out.

“Why are the eyes on your tattoo gone?”

Mr. Kazama waits until one of his subordinates moves to light his pipe. He takes a long huff and breathes out the sharp scent of tobacco in a thick cloud. “It’s always good to know burial practices. It’s respectful is what it is. In an Uchiha burial, you remove the eyes, clean the body, and wrap a white cloth to cover where the eyes had been. You burn the body in a funeral pyre, but the eyes are burnt separate. The family does it in private because it’s the eyes that are said to hold memories. Lot of us, the old guard, if we had dragons or phoenix on us had the cloth drawn over the eyes—in recognition. Some burnt it too, like me: to remember. The young ones don’t even get dragons anymore.” He jerks a thumb to the young yakuza loitering around. “It doesn’t feel right. We don’t know if they got proper burial. You always hear things around. Shinobi villages are all about function, they don’t put much stock in religion, but…just in case this is what _we_ can do.”

Every bit of information feels like a gift. Sarada treasures each one, but it only furthers her curiosity. She wants to know more, and more, and more. She needs to know about her grandparents, the dragons, the practices. She wants to know it all. Mr. Kazama is not an Uchiha, but he’s someone who knew them and somehow who actually speaks about who they had been. He’s someone who _remembers._

She says. “Thank you, Mr. Kazama.”

“No, need for it. Thank you for obliging a nostalgic old man.”

Wanibuchi carries on a whispered conversation with one of the casino staff. She turns to Mr. Kazama and tells him The Legendary Sucker Senju Tsunade is yelling around for Uchiha Sarada. She’s causing a bit of a ruckus and disturbing the other patrons. Sarada thanks Mr. Kazama and his company again for their time and the tea before she follows Wanibuchi out to the main lobby. The sound of Tsunade yelling for her echoes down throughout the halls. She screams for Sarada to get her scrawny butt moving so they can grab dinner. She doesn’t even sound tipsy. Sarada smiles and knows after dinner she’s going to write down what she’s learned.

Her mother was right.

Tsunade babysitting her has turned out better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsunade as a drunk rowdy aunt-type is a blast to write, and that might be why the chapter is longer than what I usually write.


	5. History and Hyuuga

Every morning Sarada has the same routine.

She washes her face then cleans her glasses free of any dust or smudges. Staring into the mirror she looks for any hint of redness in her eyes. Kakashi hadn’t told her how an Uchiha gets their sharingan, and she hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask. Sarada decides to just be vigilant about it and adds it to the list of questions for her father. One time she thought she saw a bit of red, but it was just allergies.

Sakura is usually off to work before Sarada wakes up, with late shifts being the exception. If her mother can’t greet her in the morning, there’s always a note with badly drawn doodles in Sakura’s favorite purple pen, waiting to do it for her. Money is put on the side table in the hall incase she wants to grab something for breakfast. She ambles downstairs, still in her pajamas, to turn on the rice cooker and teapot herself. The teakettle’s whistle lets her know when she needs to come back down dressed and bookbag in hand. It used to take a couple tries to cook an egg without breaking the yolk, but she’s gotten pretty good at it.

She reads the newspaper as she eats because Iruka-sensei says it keeps his mind sharp. It doesn’t make much sense to her since he can’t be older than Kakashi, but she wants her mind to be sharp too. Most of the news is boring, but the puzzles are still fun. After her teeth and hair are brushed, she makes sure her homework is in her bag. The last part of her routine, before she puts on her shoes, she would never tell her mother about. It’s a bit silly even in her own mind, but it’s become an essential part of her morning.

“Good morning, Papa. I’m off to school now.”

It’s a little awkward talking a picture, but she teeters back and forth on her toes and stands in front of it as if she were telling it to her real father. The picture is of a younger man, looking no more than seventeen, but it’s framed next to her own baby picture and first day of school photo. It’s still her father.

“We’re supposed to be doing a group project today, so I hope I get a good one. I also think we’re getting our grammar tests back and I think I did really good! I’ll do my best today too even if my group has people I don’t like.” Sarada twiddles her bag in hand. She can never say the last part loudly, even alone, so she whispers it. There’s just something about the _look_ Uchiha Sasuke has in his picture. Most pictures have a blankness to them, but his is more pronounced. It has such an intense air of melancholy she can’t help but want to look away, but she doesn’t. She meets the sad empty gaze to say her parting words.

“I’ll see you when I get back. I hope you have a nice day.”

She doesn’t tell her mother about it; not wanting to see her eyes turn sad too.

* * *

The Academy has three admission requirements.

  1. Love the village and hope to help preserve peace and prosperity.



Sarada thinks peace is good, and prosperity is good too, but the love the village part really should come once the other two hopes are met.

  1. Have a mind that will not yield, able to endure hard training and work.



That requirement makes her wonder how Naruto got in back in his day. His mind yields all the time. He does work hard, so maybe that makes up for it.

  1. Be healthy in mind and body.



Naruto thinks peppers are gross: case made.

The academy admission requirements are a bit redundant when there’s a tuition fee anyway.

The academy offers non-shinobi geared courses, but Sarada wonders why it really matters. She likes the geography lessons, but the local school offers them too. Most children who can’t or won’t be shinobi for one reason or another attend the local school. The local school is small and not as well funded as the academy, but it’s still a school. The tuition costs can be a detriment for many to forego the academy if they aren’t looking to be a shinobi. Those who enter the academy do so because they’re eager for the training curriculum. Still, some like Yuino Iwabee boast about their shinobi skill, but can’t pass the academic tests to move any further. Maybe it’s a good way to make sure unprepared shinobi are sent into the field, but what field are they going into anyway?

Everyone says they live in peace.

She asked Shikadai once, why they trained shinobi in peacetime, and he only blinked at her. The furrow in his brow reminded her too much of his mother. It seems better not to ask if the smartest kid in class can’t even answer her. She still prefers to sit in the front of the class, right in the middle. Even with all her reservations she wants to be a good student. No one ever takes her usual spot. Chōchō makes sure no one does, but really the only one who bothers to try is Boruto.

She grew up knowing a good chunk of the kids in her class. They’re the children of her mother’s friends. They all run in the same circles. Naruto talks all the time about the genin squads he ran with, and their children are now in her class. He thinks it’s funny to see the next generation of Ino-Shika-Cho, but Sarada wonders what her other classmates think. Inojin, Shikadai, and Chōchō might grumble about being expected to be a team like their parents, and Boruto hates being compared to his father, but the other kids probably aren’t so flippant with high-ranking jonin either. Boruto still trips up sometimes with Shino-sensei and calls him Uncle Shino instead. There are several students from less well-known shinobi, from a clan or otherwise, who are under the impression Naruto is intimidating because he’s Hokage— _Naruto_. Then again, a few are intimidated by Sarada and she doesn’t know why.

Shino-sensei claps his hands. “Today I will be assigning you into groups of three. You will be putting together a history project of your choosing. I expect you all to do your part for the group, and then decide on a topic which you will present to the class. You can do a historical moment, a figure from history, a certain sect of history like a clan or country. It’s up to you.

Sarada discreetly glances at her classmates and wonders who will be put into her group.

There’s some good picking and some bad ones. As Tsunade says, it really depends on how the dice falls.

Metal Lee is a nice boy. Sarada remembers playdates her mother planned out with his father only to end in Metal hiding behind his hands. He’s so awkward, and his clumsiness only makes it worse. He didn’t even speak their entire first year of school. If he was in any group, he’d work hard but a presentation would be torture for the poor boy.

Hako Kuroi has a little rabbit plushie she can manipulate like most puppeteers without even using her hands. Inojin has a theory she uses her mind. Sarada enjoys her company, even if she can be a bit dour. She’d be a good choice.

That Takatori boy dresses like Kakashi. Sarada thinks someone needs to break the news to him that Kakashi is a weirdo. No one has yet. He’s the type of boy who gets stressed when he fails, so he’d be a tough one to work with.

Kakei Sumire is class representative. Everyone adores her. She’s meek and respectful, and like most of the class is under the impression Naruto is somehow cool. Sarada knows she’s never done a thing to Sumire, but she can’t shake the feeling the girl hates her guts. It’s only an underlying feeling. Sumire always smiles at Sarada, never making faces or saying anything cruel, but it feels like underneath that smile she’s imagining her death.

There’s a girl with a parent from the Sound Village. She can produce sound waves with her voice, enough to break glass. It’d be a lot cooler if she could control it. Susumeno Namido is a sweet girl, but she gets scared so easy she can’t do much if her friends aren’t by her side. Sarada worries for her eardrums if that girl is put in her group.

Sarada glances at Boruto. He’s leaning back in his chair balancing a pencil on his nose. He’s smart, but also the type to put everything off until the last minute. It’s not that Sarada doesn’t like fun, but she also wants to get a good grade.

Chōchō groans when she’s put into a group with Inojin and Shino must assure her his groups were chosen completely at random. Sarada straightens up when she hears her name being called.

“Group 4 will be Uchiha Sarada, Onikuma Enko, and Nara Shikadai. You can pick a team name if you’d like.”

Boruto slams his hands on the table. “No way! I wanna be with Shikadai!”

“No, as I stated before the groups are random, and you are not switching simply because you favor another person in another group. My decisions are final. Boruto, your group includes Tsuru Itoi and Kakei Sumire. Accept your group mates with a warm welcome.”

Boruto waves to the girls in his group. It’s not a bad group by any means, but he still sends Shikadai looks of dismay when their eyes meet.

Sarada thinks her group can get along. Shikadai is smart and even if he has lazy tendencies, he’s too scared of his mom to try and do badly. Sarada never talks to him as much as she does Chōchō and Inojin, but they’ve never had problems getting alone. He always behaves better when he’s not with Boruto.

Onikuma Enko always does her work and she’s nice to everyone. That makes for a great group member. Chōchō sometimes hangs out with the group of girls’ Enko is friends with. They asked her once which of the boy’s in the class is cutest. Before she could answer they’d decided on the winner. Inojin usually wins with his soft features and cornflower hair. He’s popular with the girls until he opens his mouth. Sarada has to try not to gag when they talk about the Hokage like he’s some sort of movie star.

Enko doesn’t seem like a bad girl, but she’s still a bit of a mystery.

She always covers her hands, with long thick mittens, like she’s afraid to show them.

Shino says. “Please meet with your groups to discuss your plans for the project. After that we shall move on to continuing our discussion on the ecosystem of the Land of Fire. I am _quite_ exited for telling you all the valuable role insects play in our daily lives. It is truly fascinating.”

The class scatter to their respective groups even as Iwabee complains that they don’t need to hear Shino wax poetic about dung beetles.

Shikadai slides into the empty seat next to Sarada and waits for Enko to gather her books before he starts to talk. “Alright, guys, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t have a single idea.”

“It’s okay we still have time!” Enko assures him. “You’re really smart you’ll think of something.”

Wide green eyes with a barrette holding her hair from her face, a sweet girl like her couldn’t be hiding some sort of dark secret. She’s probably just self-conscious of her hands. Enko tries to reassure others whenever she can as if she doesn’t want anyone else to feel insecure like she does.

Shikadai raises a brow. “You got anything?”

Enko blushes and shakes her head. “There’s just so much history we could chose from. I don’t know where to start.”

“I guess we narrow it down to what won’t be boring, but also we can’t something that everyone and their mother is going to do.” Sarada takes out her history book to skim through. She can already hear her other classmates chattering away. Taketori Hōki is trying to convince his group they should do their project on the Sixth Hokage. They could get an interview! He exclaims. Wouldn’t that be so cool? He fervently tries pleading his case as the other members of his group roll their eyes. “We can meet up whenever and then decide on our topic later if you guys want time to think on it.”

Shikadai yawns. “Sounds good to me. Can’t meet today though. Got clan stuff.”

Enko nods. “Me too, but I’ll try to come up with some good ideas.”

They’ll make a good group.

Sarada will make a list of ideas later, but she has _clan stuff_ after school too.

She declines when Chōchō asks if she’d like to go help her pick out a gift for her grandpa’s birthday. She’s already putting off her homework and chores, but Sarada’s conversations with Tsunade and Mr. Kazama had given her a jumping point. She needs to know more. The library and archives are the best starting place. It’s too easy to slip from the library down into the archives area. The archivist doesn’t even glance up from his computer game when she walks in. There are shelves upon shelves of boxes, folders, and in the back rows of file cabinets. Small stickers note what each section might be, but Sarada doesn’t doubt some of the boxes are messy enough the section barely matters.

She searches first for anything regarding the Uchiha. The most common thing that pops up is historical record dating back to the founding. It doesn’t talk about anything she can’t find in her history books. A few books mention them, but nothing more than little blurbs. She needs more information than that. There are newspapers of all sorts are in the archives with some stuck together, torn, or ripped. They really should be scanned to a digital file and thrown out. Sarada still peeks at them anyway for any sign of the name Uchiha.

Underneath a bunch of folders filed as zoning meeting transcripts is an old brown box on a bottom shelf. Sarada jumps up and holds in a shriek when a dust spider crawls away at first movement. Careful of any more passengers, she carefully slides the box down to the floor. It doesn’t have anything written on it, but when Sarada peeks inside the folders are clearly marked in a clean script: KMPF Uchiha police reports. She doesn’t think anything of taking out a sealing scroll so she can go through the box later. It’s not like it’s really stealing, and to a she has a right to it anyway. She’s an Uchiha, even if not one of the police. It’ll be returned safe and sound.

She paces through the shelves, eyes darting over each box, as she looks for anything useful. Nibbling on her thumbnail, she mutters. “Gotta be some genin records in here somewhere.”

Her Uchiha grandparents were shinobi. Maybe their genin teammates are still alive.

There must be more. There just has to be. The Uchiha were a large clan once. They helped build Konoha from the ground up. Everything couldn’t have been lost. In a few files there’s mentions of names here and there. None of them really lead anywhere. Each name is important, someone who lived and was a part of the Uchiha clan, but it doesn’t lead to new papers or different boxes. Clan Head Uchiha Danuja’s traveling expenditure to Suna, a birth and marriage mentions in the newspapers, and a few mentions of the police that don’t lead to any Uchiha specific sections. What she needs are some leads. A big Uchiha section would be nice. She already found the Sarutobi one. It’s a little annoying. She doesn’t want to ask the archivist for help, so she checks the old filing system for any reference to Uchiha. The dust irritates her nose, and the fans running on full blast make her wish she brought a sweater.

“Where could it be?” She crouches down and opens a box to skim through the folders within. The archivists really need to update their system. Even if they’re probably switching to a digital format, they still need to have _some_ organization in the original files. The amount of folded, crumbled, and shoved in papers Sarada finds seems insulting to whoever created the archive in the first place. Parts of the number system don’t even match up. It seems like there’s files missing.

“Just _what_ are you doing?’

She doesn’t drop the manila folder she’s holding. Sarada _almost_ drops it but catches it at the last minute. She shoves it back on the shelf and turns around. A Hyuuga, forehead uncovered, dark hair cut into a short bob, looks down at her with narrowed eyes.

“None of your business. This is a public area. I can be here if you wanna be.”

The Hyuuga grabs her arm and jerks her up from the ground. He glares at the shelves like he can make them tell him what files she was looking at with a stern look before turning the glare onto her. “And yet your behaving like a miscreant. Now tell me, what you are doing this instant.”

Sarada ducks out from under his hold and crosses her arms in defiance.

There’s no way she’s telling him the truth. The likes of rude man don’t deserve it.

“I’m looking to see if there’s any evidence in the archives to prove your clan head is a dope.”

Before Sarada can run, the Hyuuga grabs her arm again and yanks her towards the door. Sarada tries valiantly to wiggle out of his grip, but against a full-grown shinobi it means nothing. Sarada considers screaming and carrying on like the miscreant he thinks she is, but the Hyuuga have a better reputation. They’ll think she’s a misbehaving child, and not being semi-kidnapped. The archivist is still playing that computer game. She knows he’s not switching to the digital archives tab; she saw his high score.

No help at all.

Sarada digs her nails into his hand, but he doesn’t even flinch. She hisses. “Where the hell do you think you’re taking me!”

“To Lord Hiashi. He will see to your behavior and misdeeds.”

The horrible misdeeds of utilizing the public library. He’s not her mother! Even Naruto doesn’t try and scold her, but that’s more on Naruto than anything. Hyuuga Hiashi has no hold over her. He’s not her boss. Sarada rolls her eyes and digs her feet deeper into the ground. It doesn’t seem to inhibit the Hyuuga’s march that much, but she hasn’t even tried biting off her own arm. Maybe she should bite off his. Kurama warned her once that her teeth aren’t sharp enough to tear cleanly, so she’ll have to just get a good grip and use their movement and her own to get anything ripped. Naruto probably won’t approve, and neither would Sakura.

Kakashi and Tsunade would probably find it funny.

It’s all Naruto’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t married Hinata, maybe Hyuuga Hiashi would’ve finally kicked the bucket. With no grandchildren to spoil, he could’ve died of a broken heart. Instead, he lives to annoy Sarada.

Sarada tries to zone out when he speaks. There’s something about the Hyuuga compound itself that makes her drowsy but Hiashi going into some lecture then interrogating her over what she was doing in the archives is too boring to even try focusing on. Sarada doesn’t even know why he cares. She’s not his daughter, thus not his problem. She’s not a Hyuuga so her actions don’t reflect on him. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t like it when she gives him the same answer, she gave the other Hyuuga, and commits to a vow of silence after she’d said all she can. The intimidating act doesn’t really bother her. She’s seen how he acts with his grandchildren. It’s not he can force her to talk anyway.

Why would he be worried about anything in the archives? What’s he scared of? Sarada doesn’t even know what separates the covered forehead and uncovered forehead Hyuugas. What does he know that she doesn’t? Sarada asks him if the Hyuuga have dark secrets in their past, and he scoffs and orders her to get out.

It’s completely worth breaking a vow of silence.

“Sarada, what are you doing here?”

Sarada slides her foot away from the flowerbed she’d planned on destroying, and shrugs. “What are doing here?”

Boruto jerks a thumb to one of the larger buildings, a dojo. “I was meeting with Aunt Hinabi.” Boruto is many things, many things Sarada doesn’t really agree with, but he is perceptive she’ll give him that. “What’s up with you?”

“Your grandpa’s being weird.”

Boruto snorts. “Like I don’t know that.”

Sarada considers asking him about the Hyuuga. There’re many things she can’t know, she’s not apart of their clan, but in a way Boruto is. He is trained by the Hyuuga and adored by the clan head. He might not answer all her questions, but he likes helping people learn. He tutored Iwabee, even after Iwabee tried to fight him countless times. She considers asking but can’t. Boruto is Uzumaki in name but loves the Hyuuga. He loves his mother’s clan even if she set aside her name for her marriage. Asking him won’t do, and asking someone else, like Shino or Sakura, might just get her another Hyuuga tailing her for answers.

There’s one place she can go the Hyuuga won’t have eyes.

The Teriyaki Shop boy behind the counter today is a young yakuza. A sharp faced boy with gelled blond hair who claims his name is Mitsu. Sarada heard an old woman, presumably his grandmother, yelling at him when he tried introducing himself as such. She wants to ask what mistake he made to earn counter duty but decides against it when he makes a face at her snickering. “You want your usual, Lady Uchiha?”

“I wanna know why Hyuuga Hiashi so…” Sarada ponders over the right word to use. “so irritating?”

Mitsu cackles and glances around the shop. It’s empty but for the old man who comes in for soup. He’s half-deaf and always laughs at any jewelry or new hairstyles the boys try to show off. Mitsu leans on the counter and says. “My granny was telling me about this, and I’ll tell you, but you can’t be spouting it off anywhere, okay?”

Sarada rests her elbows on the counter and readies herself. “I won’t. I just really wanted to know, and I figured it wouldn’t be good to ask any of the jonin or anything.”

“Nah, those guys won’t tell you shit. See you gotta understand all the clans are always jockeying for power. They pretend to get along, but there’s gonna be people wanting to come out on top. The Uchiha clan, they didn’t have much political clout cause of their restrictions with the police, but they had an ancestral name.” He smiles and Sarada can’t help but smile back. “That meant something. They had a religion and culture that you can still see bits and pieces of here. A lot of people, farmers and the like, this is the Land of Fire and it wasn’t some shinobi we prayed to. Lotta shinobi don’t put much onto any gods. The Uchiha did have power it just wasn’t in the Hokage Tower, ya see. Now the Hyuuga, well with the Uchiha gone they’re at the center now. They’re the only dojutsu Konoha has. Hyuuga Hiashi’s gotta stake his place because he doesn’t want the other clans sniffing around.”

Mitsu stops and yells to ask the old man if he needs anything when he looks up from his soup. The old man shakes his head and keeps eating.

“You know how the Hyuuga are separated, right? “Mitsu continues. “There’s the main house, with Hiashi and his daughters at the top, and then there’s the branch house. You’ve probably seen some of them. They always got their forehead’s covered. I know this one, Kinosaki, skinny woman and a real tough haggler. They got their foreheads covered for a reason. It’s cause they’ve got seals and they’re separated by that.”

Sarada asks. “Seals? What’s sealed?”

“Let me tell you what it all means, kid. I don’t think you’ll like it though.”


	6. Part of Being an Uchiha: Ache

There are main house and branch house Hyuuga.

The main house is in power, with the branch beneath it. The role of the branch house is to serve the main. The branch house must obey the main house no matter what. A seal on their forehead, applied at the age of four, ensures rebellion will never be tolerated. They are told they live to protect the main house. There is no other option, no choice, no freedom. A simple insult against the main house by a branch member could mean pain, but the branch members understand what is at stake should they step out of line.

A branch member’s life and the lives of all their family within it are held in the hands of the main house.

It wouldn’t take much, not with the seals. Dissenters could easily be disposed of, and it wouldn’t mean a thing. The village doesn’t get involved with clan policies. No matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if a Hyuuga dies at the hands of their own. It only matters if it’s a member of the branch house that decides to act out in violence. The whole house would suffer the wrath of the main house if that happened.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t right.

Sarada grips at her hair, knees tucked to her chest, as she tries to make sense of it all. None of it is right. It isn’t fair. Why isn’t it?

_Everyone says they live in peace._

To rebel would spell death for the branch house, but why can’t anyone else do _something_ about it.

How could _Naruto_ allow that? Naruto is the Hokage! Sarada hears about how each of the Hokages helped the village in their reign, but everyone talks about how much the village advanced under Kakashi and Naruto most of all. Hashirama brought the village into fruition, but Kakashi and Naruto made it into what it was now. That’s what everyone says. This is the future. There weren’t trains, skyscrapers, and so many other innovations back before the fourth shinobi war. The villages didn’t cooperate like they do now.

Everyone said Konoha is advancing into a new age: a time of prosperity and peace.

It doesn’t seem like the branch Hyuuga have any measure of peace.

Slavers always seemed like a far-off concept, like Tsunamis. Something she’d heard of, but never saw. She couldn’t fully understand something she didn’t have experience with. It didn’t seem like sort of thing that could be a problem in Konoha. In the poorer districts, she’d heard whispers about traffickers, but lips closed quickly when people caught sight of her. Children weren’t supposed to hear about such things.

It doesn’t make any sense. Sarada doesn’t know how to begin to understand it. Hyuuga Hiashi isn’t some creepy trafficker looking for orphan children. When Sarada imagines such men, she thinks of rotten smirks and leering gazes. Hiashi is a man with a self-important air, and his glares can be downright nasty, but he ‘s Boruto’s grandpa.

He’s Hinata’s father, and he was a brother to Hyuuga Hizashi: a twin. Hyuuga Hizashi was ordered to obey his brother until his death because he was born after his brother Hiashi. One brother serving the other by pure chance of birth order.

Branch lives belong to the main house, and so do their deaths. Kumo had demanded Hiashi’s head after a kidnaping attempt gone array. It was branch twin brother who died in his brother’s place.

Mitsu’s grandmother told Sarada the tale of another branch house boy, Hyuuga Neji.

“People like when things stay the same. Its politics is what it is.”

Mitsu’s grandmother, a woman with rough hands and a rougher voice, spat at the ground.

“The Hyuuga didn’t want anyone sticking their nose into their business, and maybe that Hiashi lad got it into his head it was for the best. That Hiashi’s daughter was in the right place at the right time and it all turned out right for him.”

It’s easier for everyone if things stay the same. Everyone except the branch Hyuuga. Even if the branch members speak out, what can come of it?

“Hyuuga Neji was the son of Hizashi. That’s a real kick to the pants isn’t it? Only a few moments brought one twin to be head of the main house and damned the other to the branch house. That Neji kid wanted to do away with the house system. Anyone with half a brain could see that. What good did it do? I heard it from one of the old guys who went to fight. It got him good and dead. He died taking a blow for Hyuuga Hinata, a girl of the main house. It didn’t mean a thing. Nothing changed. Why would anything change for just one boy?”

Sarada quietly asked if Naruto tried to change it. She’d seen Neji’s picture in his house. Hinata and Himawari always put flowers on his grave.

Mitsu’s grandmother cackled. “I heard here and there some talk, but that got shot down quicker than you can say Konohagakure. The Hyuuga have more power than ever before. Hiashi played all the right cards. Doesn’t matter if he feels bad about that boy or not, it suits him just fine. They’re not letting the Seventh take a second look at their practice. He’s got a baby with the byakugan, unsealed mind you, bearing his name. His wife took his name too. The Hyuuga used to never give up their names.”

The Hokage is supposed to help people. Isn’t he? Then why don’t the branch Hyuuga count? Why don’t they get a _choice_?

Sarada still hears Mistu’s grandmother laughing, bitter and dry, under the safety of her comforter. Hiding under her covers isn’t conductive, but she doesn’t know what else to do. She can’t tell anyone what she’s learned. She can’t tell anyone why she’s upset. There’s nothing she can do about it. When her mother knocked on her door, Sarada yelled back she wasn’t feeling too good. Just a bit of an upset stomach, nothing to worry about.

Her stomach feels upset, but not because of anything she ate.

She wants answers.

For a moment, the thought of going to visit Hinata came to her, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Hinata isn’t very intimidating. Out of most of the women Sarada knows, Hinata strives to make herself approachable. She’s gentle with children, almost condescendingly so, but if Sarada tries demanding answers from her about her clan she’d probably clam up. Why would she even listen to a little girl? No one would. Hinata would probably send her off with a pat on the head. Don’t worry about it, she’d say with a smile.

Asking Naruto is out of the question. Upsetting him would get her nowhere. Sarada doesn’t even know what she would say. Is your marriage a sham? Did you flake on your morals for political gain? Why do you allow the subjugation of the branch house Hyuuga while proclaiming Konoha as a just and peaceful village?

I’d be too much. It wouldn’t work at all.

It doesn’t make Sarada’s stomach feel any better.

A knock on the door doesn’t help matters. Ignoring it doesn’t make the person go away, it only leads to a succession of louder knocks.

It has to be Boruto. He probably wants to interrogate her about her visit to the Hyuuga compound. Sarada doesn’t want to deal with him right now. She doesn’t even want to crawl out from under the warmth of her bed, but stuffed animals thrown at the window only urges the knocking on. It would’ve been better to pretend she wasn’t home. Sarada stomps over to her window struggles to force the glass up. The metal squeak and grinds, but it eventually it opens more than a crack.

She yells, “Go away!”

Boruto doesn’t answer. Instead, someone else climbs up the house and meets Sarada with a sharp toothed grin as he clings to the drainpipe. Sarada stumbles away from her window, nearly tripping over her shark plushie.

“The most handsome brilliant man, best swordsman you know is here and you try and tell us to go away? Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Uncle Suigetsu?”

Suigetsu’s smile falls as he looks closer at Sarada. Sarada tries to pat her hair down, but she knows it’s messy. It sticks up every which way. There’s a visible knot in her bangs. She changed into her pajamas as soon as she got home, so she probably looks like a disheveled layabout. Her clothes had been dusty from the trip to the archives and a spiderweb stuck to her shoe sent her running to the shower. Letting her hair dry while hiding from the world in bed probably wasn’t the best idea.

“You look like shit.” Suigetsu leans on her windowsill and peeks into her room. Sarada tries to hide her rumpled bed with her body, but it doesn’t work. He asks, “What’s up? You having a rough day, kiddo?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Lies.”

“I mean it.” Sarada huffs. “It’s nothing!”

Suigetsu rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“I’m not lying.”

He doesn’t believe her. Sarada can see it in his eyes, but he laughs and shrugs it off. “Me, Juugo, and Karin, are heading out to town. Figured we’d find something to do. You can come with. Just get dressed and get your ass in gear.”

Suigetsu doesn’t ever pressure Sarada to talk when she doesn’t want to. It’s one of the best things about him. He’d be her favorite uncle if Juugo couldn’t talk to birds. Karin tells her not to encourage him. He’ll try everything to get into her favor if he thinks he’s even in the running, but Sarada doesn’t mind.

Uncle Juugo, Uncle Suigetsu, and Aunt Karin aren’t related to her, but Sarada has known them her whole life. They aren’t as constant as Naruto, always coming and going, but they visit when they can and send presents when they can’t.

Sarada likes them all. They treat her like a grown-up. Suigetsu teases and jokes, but never talks down to her. Juugo listens with a patient ear, and Karin tries to give advice. She isn’t very good at it, but she still tries. Sarada tries asking them about her father whenever she can, and they do try their hardest. Karin said they can’t really say much because Sakura told them some things she can’t know until she’s older. They don’t agree, but also don’t want to risk making Sakura angry. They still sneak tidbits of information every now and then. Their idea of Uchiha Sasuke sounds a lot different from what she’s heard from other people.

Naruto makes him sound cool. Karin and Suigetsu make him sound like a dweeb in the stories they can tell.

Suigetsu claims he first met Sasuke, butt naked, after Sasuke busted him out of an aquarium. Karin said very flippantly that she used be a prison warden when she met Sasuke. Juugo added he’d been one of the prisoners. They told her they all ran together for a while, like a team, but for reasons she isn’t allowed to know.

Juugo always apologized for the evasiveness, but told her Sasuke is very fond of cats, like that will make up for it. Suigetsu assured her there’s some things she probably doesn’t even want to know when it comes to a guy like Sasuke. Karin jabbed him in the ribs for that, but Sarada thought she heard some mumbles about a stabbing. No one would expand on it when she demanded an explanation either. They can’t tell her the reasonings behind their team-up, but Sarada tries to let her curiosity go. For now, their company is enough.

Her hair resists untangling, and a few strands are broken in sacrifice for the sake of time. The scroll containing her borrowed archive material rests on her dresser. Sarada glances at the scroll but decides to leave it for now. That’ll have to wait. It’s rude to leave guests waiting, even if they’re considered family, so she forgoes making her bed and rushes to the stairs. Juugo and Karin are sitting in the living room. They both turn from their spots on the couch and smile when they see her.

Another reason Sarada likes her father’s personal team, like Naruto—they always look happy to see her.

Karin says. “Look at that cutie. You look very pretty, sweetheart. That bozo didn’t bug you into going with us, did he?”

“He didn’t” Sarada replies. “And I wear this outfit all the time. Where’d Uncle Suigetsu go anyway?”

The clatter of a metal in the kitchen answers her question.

Suigetsu walks out of the kitchen casually, as if no one heard the commotion. He can pretend he wasn’t doing anything all he wants, but the bump in his cheek begs to differ. The movement of his jaw is barely noticeable, but anyone with eyes can see he’s eating.

“We’re getting something out, damn it!” Karin tries to hit him, but he swerves out of her path. He swallows whatever food he snuck with an obnoxious gulp grabbing Sarada off the floor. Sarada laughs as she’s lowered onto Suigetsu’s shoulders. “I was hungry now, shut it. Doesn’t mean I won’t be hungry later. I’m a growing boy.”

“You are _not_.” Juugo says.

“Short man.” Karin taunts, “Skinny bitch.”

“Shut the hell up the both of ya.” Suigetsu slips his sandals on at the genkan and slides Sarada’s own sandals into her feet. “Don’t listen to them, Sarada. You know any good places to eat?”

“I dunno maybe.” Sarada her chin on his head, “If you guys haven’t decided on anything you can figure it out on the way.”

The bickering over what they’re in the mood for starts before they even get out the door.

Sarada pleads for Suigetsu to let her down out as they walk. She can walk on her own. Karin asks if she’s worried any of her little friends will see, but it isn’t that. It would be a little embarrassing for her classmates to see, but the more pressing issue concerns Mr. Kazama’s men. They think they’re being discreet and slick, but any good shinobi would notice a tail. She doesn’t need guard dogs anyway, especially around people who would notice and ask questions.

They’d leave her alone if she went to their side of town. Most of the restaurants she knows are in that area, but her mother wouldn’t want her to be around there. It’s fine to go without any prying eyes over her shoulder, but she can’t be certain Karin won’t casually mention where they went in her talk to Sakura.

Suigetsu walks down main street without a destination in mind, and Sarada scans the overhead signs for anything familiar. Ichiraku is a safe bet, but she eats it all the time with Naruto. There’s the Akimichi restaurant. They’re wares are pretty filling, but also more dinner orientated. She knows for certain she doesn’t want to eat Lightning Burger. Yakiniku Q is too pricy for just a regular outing. Sarada isn’t even sure how Suigetsu or Karin get money. Juugo certainly isn’t the breadwinner of the group unless his animal friends are bringing him change. Suigetsu points at a Soba place, but Sarada shakes her head. The owner doesn’t like her. They never say anything, but sometimes Sarada wishes they would. It’d be better than being ignored or looked at with those same suspicious eyes. She doesn’t know where to go. She tries not to go down main street alone if she can help it. Celebrity shinobi help ease the way, especially someone like the Hokage, but it doesn’t matter who she knows when she’s alone.

“Sarada,” Juugo asks. “Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of it.”

Sarada unclenches her jaw and wipes her sweaty hands on her skirt.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about.”

She doesn’t even need to look to know none of them believe her, but she’s not going to explain. They don’t need to know. They’ve probably dealt with it themselves if they’ve traveled with her father, but they don’t need to know she has to deal with it too. It doesn’t make much sense to her, but it’s just how it is. Suigetsu tugs on the ends of her bangs, but Sarada ducks her head. She follows their footpath east as they walk in a tense silence.

“How bout this way?” Karin tilts up Sarada’s chin. You know anything round here?”

Sarada doesn’t look her in the eye, but she nods feeling more comfortable in safer territory.

Teriyaki is good, but she isn’t feeling it.

“There’s a good café near this one motel. The signs huge and neon, can’t miss it, just take a right and the place is right there. They’ve got good pastries.”

The woman who owns the café, Ms. Jiao, fought in the third shinobi war. An aging woman with scars across her neck, and a missing hand, she cuts a harsh figure. She’s far from a grumpy woman. Children don’t even try sneaking snacks out from Ms. Jiao’s wares. They don’t need to. All they have to do is ask. It doesn’t matter if they don’t have enough. If they’re hungry, then they get one.

Ms. Jiao greeted Sarada the first time she wandered into her store with a fresh strawberry and cream cake roll. As old as she looked, Sarada had immediately asked her if she had known her Uchiha grandparents.

She hadn’t known them, but people still tell stories. Stories are still better than nothing. Everyone has some sort of story, and Sarada prefers the kinder ones than any warning myth she could hear. It’s better to hear a story about a kind member of the Uchiha clan, or about their history, than tales about the demonic eyes that can bend reality.

Ms. Jiao sets them up in a booth near the window. She gives Sarada wink when the menus are handed out. Juugo ends up sitting next to Sarada since Suigetsu and Karin both argued over it. They’re funny. Neither seem like they mean their barbs and complaints, but neither can set them aside long either. They tell stories about places they’ve been. When she was younger, Sarada enjoyed it more than anything else. Never having stepped foot outside of Konoha, even when she was born outside the village walls, seemed so dull. Shikadai often comes back from a vacation telling Boruto how Suna was, and it makes Sarada want to see it too.

The world is so much bigger than Konoha. Her father is out there seeing it, while she can’t.

Juugo won’t allow her to brood in peace. Sarada groans when the perfunctory questions about school come, but she gives them what they want anyway.

“Schools fine, my grades are okay. I have a group project, but we haven’t decided on a subject yet. The groups pretty good though, Nara Shikadai, Shikamaru’s son, is in it. I haven’t really been up to anything, just some research.”

“Research!” Suigetsu exclaims. “That sounds cool. I’ve been doing some too. Sailing and shit, ya know. I’ve been thinking of getting my own boat.”

“You need money for a boat.” Sarada says, hiding a smile behind her sandwich. “You’re getting the meal on the house, but what do you even do for a living?”

Suigetsu shrugs, “Super-secret swordsman stuff. You wouldn’t get it.”

Odd jobs with a little crime on the side: it has to be. None of them are shinobi for any village, and she can‘t see any of them working an everyday civilian job. She doesn’t think any of them even have the documentation to so much as get a job in warehouse stocking.

Bounties aren’t as plentiful as they used to be.

Karin mumbles under her breathe. “Maybe we should’ve stayed with the Leaf. Sasuke at least gets checks coming in what do we have?”

Maybe Suigetsu will get a boat, and he can be a fisherman. It sounds like a nice peaceful life. She knows she can’t have that, but she’d be happy if he had it.

There’s too much for her to do. Research into one thing, leading to another. The scroll containing the box of police files still sits on her dresser. That’s more important. The Hyuuga are alive with clan heads who could be angry. The Uchiha are dead with their own stories seeming to fall through the cracks. As an Uchiha, Sarada knows she needs to investigate why, but the Hyuuga question still rubs at her. It isn’t her business, she knows it isn’t, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask her father’s team. They don’t have the same loyalty to Konoha as everyone else.

Stirring her tea, she tries to come off as nonchalant. “Would you happen to know anything about the Hyuuga?”

“That’s the weird girl Naruto married right?” Suigetsu asks.

Sarada doesn’t like the look in Karin’s eye. Her mouth pulls into a tight line as she studies Sarada over the top of her glasses. It isn’t a look that asks what she’s up to, but it’s a curious one.

It’d be better to change the subject. No need for needless questions.

“Why are you guys in town anyway?”

Juugo sips his tea like he wishes the cup would swallow him.

Karin chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck,

“Business!” Suigetsu blurts out. “You know, just here on some business. Busy people, yes we are. Real busy. You know how it is.”

Bullshit.

It seems like they have things they don’t want Sarada to know either. She can respect that. Suigetsu forces their conversation away with a sailor’s joke. Juugo tells her he’s trying out a new medication. Karin asks if her glasses prescription is still working good for her. They eat and Suigetsu still isn’t done when they try to leave. Ms. Jiao has to get him a milkshake to go. He practically skips with it as they return to the streets of Konoha. Juugo wonders if they should go see the Hokage to let him know they’re in town, but Karin tells him not to worry about it. Sarada dreams a bit of her comfortable bed, hiding under her covers away from the difficult troublesome world, but it’s still nice to have comfortable conversation going on around her. When Sarada knocks into someone she jerks back and bows in apology. Her mother often scolds her for looking at her feet when she walks. She never means to do it.

People tend to get uncomfortable she looks them in the eyes without permission, so she tries not to do it.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize…”

Her sentence trails off when she glances up at eyes that are all too familiar: so much like her own.

Uchiha Sasuke stares down at her with pinched lips and a furrowed brow.

Sarada unconsciously tightens her hands into fist.

This man, this confused man, looks at her like he recognizes her face from somewhere, but doesn’t know where.

She knows she doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know her. They’re father and daughter, yet practically strangers. It’s understandable. He might not recognize a girl he hasn’t seen since she was a baby at first glance. It’s understandable.

He looks different from his own picture: shoulders broader, jaw shaper, longer hair. Sarada has studied it enough to note the differences. She can even see the resemblance the two of them. Holding it to the mirror, she used to compare the picture to her own face. The teenage boy of her picture is a man now that she sees him in person. Dark hair, like her own, that shades one eye like a curtain, and a worn black clock covering almost his entire body give him an ominous air.

Sarada doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know her.

_It’s understandable._

_They don’t know each other._

She still didn’t expect the lack of recognition in his eyes to hurt so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not flow as easily as the unexpected TWBIT chapter, but hopefully the next one will go better.


	7. Nice to Meet You Uchiha Sasuke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six months give or take? Sorry, but I think I'm back to writing. The only issue is I realized I finished the outline for the Mikoto-centric fic, but not this one so I have to work on that.

This is her father. This is Uchiha Sasuke.

Sarada tries to think of the perfect words to say. She should know what to say. After all, she speaks to her father’s photo every morning. Practicing what she could say to him numerous times upon their first meeting, she should have just the words. There are so many things she wants to say, yet when faced with him none come to mind.

He doesn’t say anything either. It still seems like he’s trying to place her face.

They stare at each other without realizing how uncomfortable the others are getting. Karin coughs, but neither take notice. Suigetsu chokes out a forced laugh and slaps Sasuke’s back, as he tugs Sarada close to his side.

The identical glares that meet him don’t go amiss.

“Hey, Sasuke! What’s up? Good weather we’re having, huh? We were just hanging out with little Sarada here having some lunch. What’re you up to?”

Completely smooth, not at all obviously trying to break the ice.

Sasuke turns back to Sarada at the mention of her name, but Sarada ducks her head before she can catch his eye. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking, his eyes like dark mirrors. He’s harder to read than Naruto, much harder. Maybe it’d be easier if he’d just _say something_.

Karin coughs again much more harshly than before, and Sasuke finally speaks.

“Oh.”

_Oh…just oh._

Nothing was almost better.

She breathes easier when his gaze moves off her bent head back to Suigetsu. He says. “I ate on the way here. What’d you have for lunch?”

“Some café Sarada recommended.” Suigetsu waves the remnants of his milkshake in Sasuke’s face. “It was good. You wanna sip?”

“No, thanks,” he pushes the cup away. “I already ate.”

With her father distracted, Sarada tries to edge away, but Juugo’s large hand falling on her shoulder keeping her in place.

Karin scoffs. “I know you don’t like sweets, but a ration bar doesn’t count as a meal.”

“You do look thinner since we last saw you.” Juugo adds.

“Suigetsu’s smoothie or whatever isn’t a meal either and I’m fine, Juugo.”

“It’s a milkshake!” Suigetsu argues. “It’s got milk it in, and that’s good for you.”

“The sugar in it cancels it out.”

Sarada likes sweets quite a bit. She loves whenever Naruto takes her out for dango, but if her father doesn’t like them, she’ll make sure to remember it.

Juugo nudges her forward to greet him. Her own strength is no match for his and her attempts to hide behind his legs are quickly foiled.

_A traitor, a fiend!_ Sarada glares to make sure Juugo knows her thoughts on his betrayal, but he only gives her a soft encouraging smile. Her father glances down at her and waits. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her with curiosity or simply indifference. His eyes are just like her own, and yet as unfamiliar as any stranger’s.

He is a stranger, and he is her father. One doesn’t cancel out the other. They both simply are.

A polite bow, just as she was taught, and a deep breathe come before she speaks. “Hello, Papa.”

_Papa._

No matter how many times she practices, the word still feels strange on her tongue.

“Hello, Sarada.” Sasuke pauses for a moment. She doesn’t miss the slight kick Karin sends into his ankle. He continues. “How is your day going?”

Suigetsu isn’t subtle as he tries to hide a snort.

Sarada shrugs, “Going.”

He nods. “Mine as well.”

She doesn’t know who audibly sighed. It could’ve been any of them.

It’s an awkward walk home.

What else can they say to each other?

He could tell her she’s grown, but of course she has. He hasn’t seen her since she was a baby. She could ask him how his journey was, but he probably wouldn’t tell her. All the important questions she has for him are difficult to answer, or at least not the type for casual conversation. Speaking about her day and plans are much easier when it’s just a picture she’s taking to.

Suigetsu and Karin whisper and hiss inaudibly to Sasuke, but Sarada doesn’t try to eavesdrop. She doesn’t want her father to think she’s rude, but even then, she can already guess what they’re saying. They’re probably encouraging him to talk to her, be nice, try and bond. They really mean well. It’s a nice thought. Sarada saw a movie once where a man had gone off to war for a long time. He missed the birth of his son, and the war didn’t end until the boy was older. The man finally returned home, and his boy jumped onto his arms overwhelmed with joy. The two wept and held each other as did the mother. They were happy finally together.

It’s a nice thought, but Sarada can’t really understand it. It’d probably make for a nice picture if she jumped into his arms, bubbly and excited, but Sasuke looks more like the gesture would make him more uncomfortable than joyful.

He certainly isn’t subtle about his discomfort when they finally get home.

Sarada loves her mother, she really does. But her getting off work early, on today of all days, is one of the worst things she could’ve done.

Any emotion that could’ve shown on Sasuke’s face immediately shuts down when Sakura, with wide excited eyes, exclaims. “Oh, Sasuke! You’re home!”

She pulls him into a tight hug, but she might as well be hugging a tree with the amount of effort Sasuke puts into it. “Naruto didn’t mention you’d be stopping by, and well the house isn’t as put together as it should be, and who knows where Sarada’s run off to.”

“I’m right here!” She pipes up. Sakura releases Sasuke and Sarada lets her mother maneuver her for presentation.

“Sweetie, I know this is a bit of a surprise, but have you met—”

“Yeah, all peachy keen. I had lunch. Papa looks like some sort of traveling peddler. We’re going to make friendship bracelets later, and it’ll be grand.”

Sarada ignores the ‘don’t sass me in front of him’ message her mother’s tight grip on her arm sends and wiggles away. Juugo gives her a thumbs up before walking right back out the door. Suigetsu whispers a few more words of advice into Sasuke’s ear before running off in the direction Juugo went. Karin at least _tries_ to appear polite, greeting Sakura and giving her a brief overview of their meeting. The excuses she gives for them leaving so suddenly are placating and not very convincing, but their secondhand embarrassment is plain for anyone to see.

They don’t want to watch the train wreck coming, and Sarada understands. She doesn’t really want to be on the train.

Sakura laughs, softer than usual and with a higher pitch. It sounds unfamiliar and strange to Sarada’s ears. “Sarada spends a lot of time with Naruto, so she just loves to joke. Kakashi trains with her when he has the time too, and you know how he is.”

“I’ve decided to abandon the shinobi life for the circus.” Sarada says. “I’d make a wonderful clown.”

The twitch finding a home in her mother’s brow in the moment makes any future scolding worth it. Sarada ducks under the hand that tries to catch her and uses the couch as a barrier. Sasuke watches her as he puts his sandals on the shoe rack. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sakura beats him to it.

“See, she’s always a kidder. I just don’t know what to do with her.” She moves to help him take off his traveling cloak, but Sasuke unclasps it and moves it under his sole arm with ease. Sakura’s hands drop to her sides awkwardly. “You must be tired. How about some tea? Karui gave Ino and me this wonderful herbal blend. Sarada can show you around the house if you’d like. It isn’t too big, but well there was some structural damage with the last one, so it works for us.”

Sasuke places his cloak on the coat rack before walking to the living room. He sits down next to Sarada without even glancing at her. “Tea is fine.”

It doesn’t make any sense. Sarada tries to make sense of it, but she can’t. Her mother rushes off to the kitchen like it’s the most important thing she can do. If it were Naruto, she would’ve told him to get his own drink if he were so thirsty. Ino and Sai would’ve chatted with her as they helped in the kitchen. But things are always different when it comes to Uchiha Sasuke.

Her mother acts different, like she’s trying to be something she’s not. It’s like she has an image in her head of a perfect wife. No matter what it takes, no matter what she must cut away or hide, she thinks she needs to try and fit it. Sarada can’t understand it at all.

Her parents don’t seem like they love each other, not in the way other married couples do. They certainly don’t live together, or even keep in touch. Chōchō is always complaining her dad gets pouty when her mom is visiting Kumogakure. She says they’re insufferably affectionate when her mom comes home even if she was just gone for a week. Sarada’s father is far from that. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. There aren’t any of the random hugs of Chōchō’s parents. There isn’t even the pleasant companionship Sarada sees in Inojin’s parents. Sasuke and Sakura can say they’re husband and wife, but it’s more like they’re playing pretend. Sakura is better at it than Sasuke, but only because she tries her hardest.

It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would they marry each other? Sarada tries not to think too hard on it no matter how much it bothers her. If she ponders on the question too long another always comes to mind, and no one really wants to ponder the reasons for their own existence.

Maybe they’re trying for her sake.

Her mother loves her, and she hopes her father does too.

It’s just hard to say for certain when she doesn’t know him at all.

Sarada can feel him looking at her. She wonders if he’s studying her, cataloging their physical similarities, the same way everyone else does once they see the Uchiwa on her back.

He says. “You shouldn’t interrupt your mother when she’s speaking.”

She can’t help the sneer that overtakes her face. He really thinks he can scold her out of the blue.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m thinking.”

His lips twitch upwards, but it falls away as quickly as it came.

“Suigetsu said you were having bad day.”

She can’t tell him. She doesn’t know what he’d say about her curiosity about the Hyuuga, probably to keep her nose out of it. What would he think about police files sitting on her dresser? Sarada can’t say. No one had ever told her much about her clan, and he wasn’t there to do it either. There’s no telling how long he plans on being in Konoha anyway.

She shrugs. “Everyone has bad days sometimes.”

“Some more than others.” He replies.

Sarada isn’t sure how to respond to that, but thankfully she doesn’t have to. Sakura bring in the tea, scoots close to Sasuke, and immediately takes over the conversation. It’s more of a one-way conversation, as Sasuke only nods, shakes his head, or makes vague noises of affirmation in response. Sakura is babbling. Sarada can’t even follow what her mother is talking about as she jumps around topics from her friends, the hospital, Sarada, to the old days.

Neither seem relaxed enough for people who claim to be married.

Everyone talks of peace, but it always sounds like an abstract thing, like they say they _have_ peace without fully knowing what it is.

Is it peace to bury one’s head in the sand and pretend to be happy?

Sarada gets up to hide in her room, but Sasuke stops her.

“Do…Do you want to train?” he asks.

“I train on occasion.”

Sakura makes a quick ‘cut it out’ gesture behind Sasuke’s back.   
He clarifies, “Together, I mean.”

There isn’t anything better to do, and the look on her mother’s face don’t hold good promises should she refuse.

“Sure.”

It might have been better to run, her mother’s irritation be damned.

Sarada thought Sasuke would be more open to talking and getting to know each other without Sakura peering over their shoulders, but when he said training, he meant _training_. The warmup stretches weren’t bad until he told her to run laps. She stared at him confused until he asked if having something chase her would help, so she ran without complaint. Some people love the burning ache in their muscles and the satisfaction of a sweaty workout. Sarada is not one of those people. There isn’t much of a break when her father tells her to stop. She takes the shuriken and kunai he hands her and takes a proper stance in front of the targets. She wants to lay on the grass for a bit, but apparently that isn’t the way Uchiha do things.

He throws out advice randomly and unprompted. Some of it is helpful, so Sarada tries to not let the criticism get to her but it’s difficult.

“Your aim isn’t bad, but you overextend your elbow.

“Your feet are a bit unsteady.”

“You’re too stiff.”

“Make sure you keep aware of your surroundings.”

She snaps and tosses down a shuriken, “I’m not good at some of this shit, okay!”

His response surprises her.

“That’s okay. Just do your best. Training hard and learning from your mistakes: that’s the only way to progress forward.”

“To be a better shinobi.” She sighs, “I know I’ve heard it all before.”

Sasuke looks at her inquisitively. “You don’t sound very enthused.”

She isn’t, but people usually chalk it up to laziness.

Sarada asks. “Papa, do you hate killing?”

Startled, like he’d never been asked such a question, Sasuke crosses his arms as he thinks. He muses aloud more to himself than to Sarada. “At this point I think I’ve just gotten used to it, but I didn’t always feel that way. There are people I wanted to kill, but I had no pride in the act itself. It gets easier with time I think, but even then, it’s—”

His sentence falls away when he glances at his daughter and sees befuddled sorrow written plainly across her face.

“Sarada?”

“Hm?”

His hand falls heavily on top of her head. The ruffle of her hair is gentle and slow, not like the rough noogies Naruto gives Boruto, but the warmth of his hand comforts her. “You shouldn’t think on such things—not yet. Don’t worry, okay?”

Sarada replies, “I can’t make any promises.”

That earns a soft chuckle and, he encourages her to keep trying.

Uchiha Sasuke is different from Naruto, very different, but similar in one way. He’s tired too. He’s strong, but still aching for rest. A heavy weight pulls on his shoulders, bending his neck, and he’s too tired to try and pry it off. There were Uchiha once, but now there are only two: a solitary man, and a little girl. Sarada doesn’t even know why. What became of the other Uchiha? No one has told her. They say the Uchiha are gone, but how? Why? She’s inherited broken stories and ghosts of ash. Sarada wants the name Uchiha to mean something. She wants her father to share it with her, to know him better, and have a family meal together. She wants to make him laugh.

Sarada knows she can't ease all the sadness within him, but she can do that at the very least. 


	8. Naruto and Sasuke

Everyone says Sasuke and Naruto are the best of friends. Their personalities seem so different one wouldn’t guess they get along without knowing them but seeing them in the same room together—it makes sense.

Sasuke is happy to see Naruto. It shows in the ease that settles in his shoulders, the way his hand doesn’t hover by his sword, and the flickers of a smile that flash across his face. It’s strange seeing him happy. What makes it stranger is how happy seeing him makes Naruto too. Naruto acts like it’s the greatest surprise Sarada could have given him when Sasuke casually strolls into the Hokage’s office. His eyes light up, and his grin stretches the skin of his cheeks.

Neither of them, from what Sarada has seen, appear that happy very often. At least, not happy in the way Sarada sees them now. They both relax, like breathing the same air as the other, makes life easier to go through. The world seems brighter so long as their side by side.

“You bastard! You should’ve called. I knew you were coming this week, but I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

Sasuke shrugs, “you know I don’t like using the phone. You always text and I can’t ever understand the messages when you shorten the words.”

Naruto cackles and stage whispers to Sarada. “Sasuke’s pretty lame. I’m a lot cooler than him, right? He always sends messages with his hawks, but I know all the texting lingo.”

Sarada tries to keep from giggling.

_Lingo? What a dork._

“You’re such a dork.” Sasuke says. “One person thinking your cool doesn’t prove anything.”

Sarada plops down on one of the many boxes Naruto keeps in his office. She pulls her knees to her chest and pretends to clean under her nails, “I never said he’s cool.”

Naruto nearly falls out of his office chair as he splutters and flails dramatically. Some of his papers fly off his desk, but he doesn’t bother with them. His bubbling energy fills the room in bursts like he’s kept it locked away for too long. The brightness almost burns, and it’s all because of her father. Sasuke himself doesn’t appear to even notice it. He adjusts a half empty cup of ramen away from the edge of his desk and moves a coffee cup out of the way. He takes a drink and grimaces at the taste.

“Why is it cold?” Sasuke asks.

Naruto settles down and bashfully rubs the back of his neck. “I might have…forgot about it a while ago.”

“Have you still been drinking it cold?”

“Maybe…”

“It’s too sweet.” Sasuke swishes the liquid and glares at the mug, “and the texture is like mud.”

Naruto huffs. “Sorry it’s not a cup of gold suited to your high-class taste buds.”

“You should drink more water anyway.”

“Don’t you start!”

All the awkwardness and discomfort Sasuke showed with Sakura has vanished like it was never there.

Sasuke and Naruto look at each other like every answer they could need was in the other’s eyes. Sarada hadn’t seen her father look at her mother like that. Naruto and Sasuke are different. Their touches linger. A friendly pat on the shoulder, a brush of hands that stills like deep down they never want to let go.

Sometimes it seems like they’ve forgotten she’s even there. Sarada wouldn’t be surprised if they were always like that; talking and gravitating around one another like there’s no one else in the world. They banter back and forth, casually with a teasing but soft hint to every word.

Naruto flings an arm around Sarada and ruffles her hair. “You guys were hanging out without me? That’s no fun. Sasuke, Sarada here is always dropping by my office to have lunch. Kakashi-sensei won’t admit it, but I’m totally her favorite.”

Sarada notices her father’s smile turn a little sad while watching them. She tries shoving Naruto off. He complains about how tired he is, and Sarada mumbles swears under her breathe as Naruto lets his full weight come down on top of her. She dives out from under him and lets him face plant into the floor. His whines fall on deaf ears.

Sasuke chuckles. “Favorite, huh?”

The warm affection shines in his voice.

Seeing Sasuke laugh, no matter how softly, is enough to bring a smile to Naruto’s face.

It finally clicks for Sarada when Sasuke offers Naruto a hand, and both are reluctant to let go.

They love each other…don’t they?

They’re best friends, but that’s not all they are.

Sarada doesn’t think she knows that much about love. She’s never even had a crush on anyone yet, but she’s seen how adults in love act around one another. Kakashi, always on edge, melts in relaxation in the early mornings when Gai offers him breakfast. Shikadai’s father rushes diligently through his work every day to get home to his wife. They’re all always happier together.

Sasuke doesn’t even act like Sakura is his wife, and Naruto avoids his. If their marriages are so constricting for both, then what’s the point? It won’t make either party happy to pretend. Is it just easier to say there’s love when there isn’t? Is it for the children? It doesn’t seem like a better way to Sarada.

It only brings more questions, but it’s not her place to ask. Naruto and Hinata’s marriage had always seemed odd, although not as much as her own parent’s. Maybe she could ask her father about it. Her mother would be mad, but she doesn’t know to know. Sarada will tell him. She’ll ask if Uchiha have always had scheduled meetings with the village elders. She’ll ask why people don’t seem to like their name. Later, she’ll work up the nerve to ask why they’re the only Uchiha left, but not today.

Sasuke leans against the wall and asks, “You got anything for me?”

Naruto’s blushes. “Huh?”

Sasuke raises a brow, “missions?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah missions, right.”

Neither of them are very subtle. Their wives _must_ know, and if not them everyone else must. Sarada had always wondered why Shikamaru rolled his eyes when Sasuke’s name was brought up in any capacity.

Naruto skims through his papers, taking the ones Sarada hands him from the floor and reading through them before tossing them into a pile on his desk. “Well, I’m guessing you don’t want any standards D or C ranks. We’ve been getting some odd reports, something that is believed to involve a number of individuals with bloodlines. It’s still a bit of an unknown right now. Yamato’s keeping an eye on Orochimaru like he always does. He can get a bit paranoid sometimes, but from what we’ve seen Orochimaru’s not involved at it. It’s all making a few people up top restless. Hiashi always breathes down my neck about one thing or another, ya know.”

Sarada wants to scold him. He shouldn’t demean Yamato’s fear. She’d seen the old ire smoldering in Yamato’s eyes. He’s an old friend of Kakashi’s, and she’s played enough games with him during babysitting visits to call him a friend. Orochimaru is someone no one really speaks about. Sarada had only seen him once when she’d been small as she hid behind her mother’s legs. The disgust and carefully hidden fear in Yamato’s eyes made her keep a safe distance from Orochimaru.

Sasuke glances over the paper Naruto passes him. “I’ll look into it.”

Sarada silently agrees. She can go places Naruto and his shinobi probably won’t think of, but she isn’t worried about a threat to the village. Bloodline individuals sounds like just the thing she needs to help her own research. For now, her father is a potential resource, but she doesn’t want to disturb their cautious truce by sticking her nose where it might not belong.

She doesn’t know how long he’ll be in the village, but hopefully they’ll enough time for questions.

A sharp knock raps against the door.

“Come in!” Naruto shouts.

Shikamaru pokes his head in. His face falls into the usual look of exasperation he gets when he sees not only Sarada but also Sasuke.

“Thought you’d be here in here. My kid is looking for you, Sarada. He mentioned something about a project for school and that it wouldn’t take long he just wanted to get it out of the way before supper.” He raises his hand in a half-hearted wave to Sasuke. “Good to see ya, Sasuke.”

Sasuke doesn’t even acknowledge the greeting.

Sarada wonders if Shikadai actually got an idea for their project or if he’s putting on a show for his mother. They’d been floundering for a bit while everyone else seemed to have some ideas already. If they don’t hurry all the good topics will be taken.

“He’s in a group with me and another girl from our class. Thank you for telling me, Mr. Shikamaru.” She turns to Naruto and Sasuke and bows. “Sorry I have to leave so suddenly. I should see what Shikadai wants. Thank you for spending time with me today.”

Naruto waves her off with his usual boisterous charm. “It’s cool. You know you can drop in whenever. I’ll see you later. Okay, kiddo?”

Sasuke nods in agreement, and Sarada figures it’s as good enough of a dismissal as any. She takes a deep breathe and decides to speak before she loses her nerve.

“Do you…” The words fail her, but she knows she can do it.

Sasuke waits patiently for her even as Shikamaru starts to tap his foot.

“Dinner?” She asks. “Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Do you?” he replies.

“Would you like anything in particular? I mean…I can make something. I’m pretty good at cooking. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Um…yeah.”

Sarada, staring at her feet, doesn’t notice Naruto giving Sasuke two thumbs up.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

A paper plane flies at Sasuke’s head and misses; all this Sarada doesn’t see. Shikamaru pinches the bridge of his nose, but he’s used to this by now.

Sasuke says, “I like nanban-zuke with tomatos if that’s okay.”

Sarada pushes up her glasses and nods. “I can do that!”

She’ll keep reaching out. She’ll keep trying to know him. Even if Sasuke seems a little bad at it, it’s like he’s trying his best too.


	9. Love and Marriage

Shikamaru leaves with Sarada. As soon as the door is closed firmly shut, Naruto tries pulling Sasuke closer. He tugs on Sasuke’s worn traveling cloak to bring him in front of his chair and wraps an arm around his waist. Sasuke hesitates for a moment, like he might pull away, before relaxing in Naruto’s hold. He runs his sole hand through Naruto’s hair as Naruto buries his face against his shirt. He lets him get lost in the familiar warmth. Uchiha have always run hotter than most, and Naruto always complains about being cold. The scent of dust, pine, and oak from the road tickles his nose. Sasuke had been training and traveling. He could use a bath, but Naruto’s older and knows it wouldn’t be polite to say that to say. At the moment, he doesn’t really care either.

Sasuke’s home.

That’s the only thing that matters.

“That short hair doesn’t really suit you. It makes your face look old.”

“You aren’t in any place to scold me about hair considering yours looks like it’s trying to eat your face.”

Sasuke chuckles. “It’s to cover the rinnegan, dumbass.”

Naruto knows that, but he still misses Sasuke’s shorter hair. When it was longer, it was heavier, weighing down the usual rough strands that used to stand up in the back. Sasuke gingerly pushes him away, but Naruto refuses to let go. He won’t. It’s been too long since he’s seen his dearest friend. He’s missed him. Naruto wishes Sasuke would visit more often, not only for himself, but for Sarada’s sake too.

“Sorry for throwing the paper plane at ya. Sarada just looked so happy, and I was trying to save your ass so you didn’t look like a dweeb in front of her.”

  
“Dweeb?” Sasuke snorts. “If anyone’s a dweeb it’s you. I did just fine.” He hesitates for a moment before asking. ““How are you so casual with her? She seems to adore you—not like it’s hard. Do you really think she seemed happy? I know she doesn’t know me well, so she has no reason to be happy around me, but…”

“It was staring you right in the face!” Naruto proclaims. “Look, Sarada isn’t really the most sociable child, or so Sakura says, but she was going out of her way to try and communicate with you. She obviously wants to spend time with you. You’ll work it out, just give it some time.”

Encouragement comes as easily from his mouth as air. Naruto says it, but he really doesn’t know how they two of them will work out their relationship. Both have pride in spades, with a stubbornness to match, so they will have to climb to meet the other on an amenable level. Sasuke buries himself in missions. It almost seems strange to think of him as someone’s father. Sarada probably heard many stories of the incredibly strong shinobi, Uchiha Sasuke, but the man called she calls father is still a mystery.

Naruto always wanted Sasuke to come home and talk to Sarada. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll find a place to fit. Sasuke refuses Konoha, but maybe given time things could be different. He could bond with his only daughter, and then he’d truly have a family just like Naruto. Bonding with his ‘wife’ might be a pipe dream, but Naruto sees the affection in Sasuke’s eyes when he looks at his daughter. He can try, and then everything will be just fine.

Sasuke says, “I know what your thinking.”

“Oh, what is it?” Naruto can’t help the corner of his mouth from quirking upwards.

“You think I should go play house with Sakura. You think it’s wrong Sarada looks at me most of the time like I’m a particularly interesting stranger. I know it isn’t right. But no, I just need to _buckle down, suck it up, and try harder_.” Naruto doesn’t even need to look. He can feel Sasuke’s sneer. “I…I can’t be in this village, Naruto. I can’t. You also have no place to judge me. Your own children barely see you, but at least I don’t try and put up any pretense about it.”

His smirk falls. It feels like a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Naruto knows it’s true, even if he doesn’t want to. He missed Himawari’s birthday and tried sending a clone. It enraged Boruto. Hinata had grown to expect his absence. It doesn’t make sense. He has everything he’d ever wanted. He’s Hokage, he has a family, but it’s still not enough. By everyone’s account, Hinata is a perfect wife. Naruto hates to admit it, but he doesn’t know her well as a person, but knows she’s a good woman. Himawari is a sweet girl who tries to expect better than what she’s given from her father. Boruto is still a good boy even as he jumps on Naruto’s nerves trying to bug him into attention. It isn’t until Sasuke points it out does he recall another child who used to do the same.

“Can you just talk to me, Sasuke, I don’t really want to think about that right now.” Naruto tries to pull Sasuke back into his arms, but Sasuke steps away out of reach.

He’s always just out of reach.

“I talk to you often, but do you ever listen to me?” he asks.

“Sasuke…I’m listening.”

“Are you really?”

Everyone used to call him the knuckleheaded ninja, and maybe he still is. He was too blind to see his feelings for his closest friend until it was too late. He’s married, but any affection he has for his wife is overshadowed by Sasuke.

Naruto loves him. He loves seeing him, and every little moment they spend together. Just being able to see the small smile that makes Sasuke’s face seem so much younger brings the light back. Being near him makes Naruto feel lighter, stronger, better. Love almost seems like too simple of a word. If there are words stronger than ‘I love you’ they might come close describing a fraction of how he feels for Sasuke. The Hokage position isn’t what he thought it would be, and even though he has the village’s love, it doesn’t feel like enough. Sasuke once said the village’s love isn’t really love, but appreciation for usefulness and Naruto brushed it aside. Maybe he was right about not listening.

He wants to spend every waking moment at Sasuke’s side. He wants to feel the rough callouses of Sasuke’s remaining hand, so gently, cradling his face. There’s so much to want, and he wants every bit of it both good and bad. Waking up to see one another, eating breakfast together, Sasuke’s hums and grunts of affirmation when Naruto rambles: Naruto wants it all.

They’d always circled around each other, whether as rivals or friends, so Naruto had figured his connection with Sasuke just made him his absolute best friend. They were, but that and more. Sasuke called him his one and only, and Naruto had been too hardheaded at the time to see what that truly meant.

It’s not that he doesn’t love his wife. He cares about Hinata deeply, just like he cares about all his friends. Everyone told him he must love her, and that they’d be perfect as a couple. She loves him and worked up the courage to tell him so. Her kindness is sweet and gentle. She adores their children and tries to make the best of their family. Now, Naruto tries his hardest to avoid them all out of shame. He wants to be a good husband to her, and he’s tried. He wants them to be a happy, _normal_ family. He really has no right to judge Sasuke when sometimes he’s just too tired to play pretend too.

He’s always tired, and it never truly goes away.

Naruto loves Sasuke, but no matter how much he’s emotionally failed his wife he won’t break her faith in him. More so because Sasuke won’t let him. Hugs, no matter how intimate, are the most Naruto gets. Since the fates loved messing with them as kids, Naruto tries to invoke accidental kisses, but Sasuke’s much more skilled than he was as a genin. He’s a married man, and even if Sasuke considers his own _marriage_ irrelevant, he says Naruto went into his with honest intentions. No matter how much he wants, Sasuke pushes him away.

They try to keep a distance, even if they’re both bad at it. He loves Sasuke so much, and he knows for certain Sasuke loves him back.

It seems ridiculous Naruto didn’t see it before, but misunderstandings come easy between the two of them. Everyone says it’s a time of peace, and they all try to keep it that way. Sasuke had been content to keep his feelings to himself until Naruto blurted out his own one day.

Sasuke loves him, but maybe hates him just a little bit too. Whenever Naruto takes Sasuke’s hand, he feels the warmth of his love and the sizzling anger burning beneath his skin intertwined. Sasuke asks for mission after mission to avoid having to spend more time in Konoha then he must, even if that’s where Naruto is.

“I mostly bond with her talking about you, ya know.” Naruto says. “Just normal stuff like what you like and don’t like. I try to skirt around any bad stuff, but she’s always got questions. Sakura and I used to meet up more before when Sarada was little, and when she got older, she’d just come drop my office whenever. We usually have lunch together. To be honest with you, I think she sees me as a foolish boy. She might call me Lord Seventh in front of Sakura, but she’s got a mean scowl.”

“So, you let my child baby you?” Sasuke asks.

“You wouldn’t say baby if you’d seen her curl her lip at me when I don’t feel like eating. She can be downright cruel. One time I was at their house, she literally dragged me into the shower and turned on the cold water.”

“Were you drunk?”

Naruto’s silence is enough of an answer. Sasuke comfortingly runs his fingers through Naruto’s hair, but pulls away when Naruto reaches for his hand.

Sasuke says. “Maybe you are a foolish boy, and you’re finally admitting it.” His voice falls to a whisper. “Maybe I’m just as foolish.”

Naruto wishes he could say he isn’t, but knows he is. He was so young and optimistic once. Sometimes, it feels like that boy was a completely different person from the man he is now. He had so many plans. If those plans came to fruition, maybe the rage still creeping in Sasuke’s veins would damper. But now they just seem like pipe dreams.

The Hyuuga clan, Hiashi to be precise, told him it was best for his position not to interfere. Hinata never brought it up. She says everything is fine. Everyone who knows the truth, says it’s best to leave the past behind when it comes to the Uchiha clan. The only time the past is relevant when it comes to suspicions about Sasuke. Naruto tries to ignore it, but sometimes he even sees the same bubbling fury Sasuke has building behind Sarada’s wide eyes. He wants everyone to be happy. Everything is peaceful. Everyone should be happy.

Whenever he walks around the village, he sees change. Buildings growing taller, new restaurants, old haunts no longer there, and yet some things still seem the same. They’re the same, and maybe that’s why Sasuke hates it so much.

Things were easier when he was just a kid, and he misses it. Naruto doesn’t miss the loneliness or the glares, but he misses the freedom. Though even today, it doesn’t feel like the loneliness is gone. He could be sitting at the dinner table with Hinata spooning out rice for everyone, Boruto trying to sneakily play his videogame under the table, and Himawari chatting about her day and still feel lonely.

Now he’s grown, and he’s still lonely just with paperwork to do.

“Sasuke, when I was a kid did you think I was a brat?”

“Absolutely. You were the worst, crude, dense, raised-by-ramen, brat I’d ever met, but I thought you were a little funny when I was little too.”

Naruto grins. “So, you liked me then?”

“I’ll admit nothing.” Sasuke replies. “Recall your fight against Inuzuka Kiba in our first chunin exams and you tell me.”

Naruto scratches the bridge of his nose and ducks to hide his blushing. “I can’t say I do sorry you know once you get older memories start to fade and all that.”

Hearing Sasuke laugh is like the sun peeking out from an overcast sky. “You’re not that old.”

He’s older than his parents ever got to be. He’s probably even older than Sasuke’s parents ever were. He’s definitely older than Itachi’s twenty-one years and Neji’s eighteen.

“I feel it.”

Sasuke seemed to know Naruto’s thoughts even before he does. “You’re thinking too hard, dobe. I can see smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Do you love me?” He asks.

“I do.” Sasuke crosses his arms.

“I love you.” Naruto moves his chair further away from Sasuke and doesn’t look up from shuffling his papers when Sasuke moves towards the door.

“Are you angry with me?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer.

He walks out of the Hokage’s office without a second glance back, and Naruto wishes he were a child that could make Sasuke smile so easily once more.


	10. Part of Being an Uchiha: Secrets and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm usually dialogue heavy, but not much dialogue here. Sasuke POV though!

_Konoha should burn._

The persistent thought always comes back with new vigor whenever Sasuke finds himself back within the walls of Konohagakure.

Sasuke hates Konoha. As much as he loves his daughter, he can’t love Konoha.

Uchiha love immensely. The intensity of their love scares some people. Perhaps it’s like how a fish might feel staring into the sun for the very first time after a life beneath the waves; overwhelmed and gasping for air. That fear means nothing to them, to an Uchiha, their love is the only thing that makes sense in their world of violence. For an Uchiha, family is everything. Their eyes are not only their strength but a weight, a burden of pain and memory, that can only be endured together.

Not many know that the history of the Uchiha claims they grew strong, nearly unmatched in the shinobi arts, for one reason—to protect one another. For the eyes they bore were coveted, they were feared, and they needed to be strong to be safe.

There's nothing more frightening than an Uchiha alone. 

Maybe that’s why the massacre broke Sasuke so completely.

Everyone was gone. All the love he’d ever had in his short life was wiped out in a single swipe. There was no one else to remember the stories; no one to teach him what he was too young to know. There was no one anymore. They’re all dead.

The village called him the Last Uchiha as it were a badge of pride when he was young. Many wished to challenge him, the Last Uchiha, as if that title meant he was stronger than most.

 _The Last Uchiha_ —as if surviving all others was something to celebrate. As if all the others who died were nothing more than steppingstones, and not people: mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. What was there to be proud of? Living when babies did not couldn’t prove strength. Living when his parents died in a bloody heap was no cause of celebration.

Sasuke thinks he might had died that night too. As a child in his darkest moments, he’d wished he had.

He doesn’t think he’s felt alive, truly alive, since he was seven years old. There have been moments of light, rays of happiness that shine through, but overall, it feels as if a shroud has been over his head since that night. Burning rage can peak through, but nowadays Sasuke tries his best to dampen it the best he can.

Everyone says they’re in a time of peace.

Konoha is thriving. The economy is better than ever with new inventions every day. The train system is doing wonders for inter-village trade, and relations are good with regular meetings between the Kage. They remember the Senju, while they forget the Uchiha. The people of Konoha are content in peacetime as they marry and raise children. Children are sent to the academy, but Sasuke doesn’t really know what for.

Everyone says the age of peace has begun. Being outside the village walls often, Sasuke can’t find it himself to force down those words. There may be peace within the village walls, but a façade is only just that. It can only hold for so long. But by the smiles on the villager’s faces, one would never guess their village was one for shinobi.

It makes him _sick_.

Sasuke hates Konoha with his entire being, and nothing Naruto says can make it stop.

Uchiha are taught their emotions are vast and encompassing within them, fanned by flames, and Sasuke felt it burning within him as a boy. His mother praised him for it, and claimed he’d inherited her temperament. His grandmother Torabana, the former clan head, adored him for it. She swore to his father that one day the clan would need his son’s passion. Sasuke accepted the praise gratefully, but figured she only said it because Grandmother Torabana had never been fond of Itachi.

The burning simmered over the years, to a dull flickering flame, but it thunders back with a roar whenever Sasuke finds himself back in Konoha. Everything is different, yet nothing has changed. _It burns_. He hates it. Sasuke hates Konoha, but if he admits it to anyone, he’d never leave the T&I dungeons. Even without that threat, he keeps it close to his chest, for Naruto’s sake, but it lingers there.

_Naruto._

Somehow, it always come back around to him.

The word adoration comes close to describing how Sasuke feels for Uzumaki Naruto. Adoration strung together with secrets and pain. Naruto is a crackling bonfire in the darkest coldest night. Naruto can bring a smile to his face when he almost thinks he’s forgotten how. Naruto chased after him for years without even really comprehending why. He loves him, dearly, and yet the pain remains. He can’t ignore it no matter how hard he tries.

Naruto wants everyone to be happy. He thinks its possible to please everyone. He doesn’t grasp it no matter how hard Sasuke tries to make him understand.

As he walks through the village, Sasuke sees so many villagers going about their lives. Spouses share secret looks only they understand. Children run and play underfoot. Shops continue to sell their wares, and life goes on. Naruto says this is the peace everyone fought for, that Itachi fought for. Sasuke can’t bring himself to agree. He hates it. They should stop being so happy. Why? Why don’t any of them hurt? Don’t they smell the blood? Do they not hear the screaming when they lay down at night?

Sasuke hates Konoha, but it doesn’t matter now.

He’s tired: too tired to fight anymore.

Naruto asks for peace with a smile, and Sasuke slumps his shoulders and agrees. Sometimes it feels like a game, like he’s trying to imitate Kakashi’s nonchalant demeanor. He isn’t that good at it, and Naruto notices but never comments on it. Sasuke doesn’t mind. No one else would care. No one else knows him that well.

When he was young, he would’ve raged at the man he is now. He’d been a child ruled by his emotions. His grief and loneliness lunged him into a tunnel-vision mission for revenge, and it only cycled. The enemies changed, but the mission stayed the same. Things only got muddy when there wasn’t a mission anymore.

His name weighs his shoulders down with its secrets, and he’s too tired to do anything about it. Nothing would come of fighting anyway.

There would be no vengeance against Konoha.

Naruto said he could make things better, and Sasuke trusted him to.

Then again, anyone can toss a blanket over a bloody corpse and pray no one notices the blood leaking through.

His own daughter will probably never know the chains attached to her own name. Sometimes Sasuke thinks it’s for the best, but other times that burns as much as anything else.

Everyone was so grateful for another Uchiha no one bothered to ask what he wanted. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Kakashi told him to at least consider Sakura’s feelings.

When he left the village, this time with permission, Sakura followed and spoke of her love for him with flushed cheeks. She confessed to loving him and wanting a relationship, even after everything that happened between them all. The past was in the past. Everyone repeated over and over that the past didn’t matter anymore.

Sasuke tried to accept that. He tried to listen. After the war, everything seemed duller. The fight that used to itch at him didn’t wrack his muscles like it used to. He let Sakura follow him but hadn’t known how to rebuke her affections. He’d already tried. It seemed like he’d made his own feelings clear during the war, but perhaps it didn’t stick. Then again, Sasuke thought he’d made his feelings for Naruto clear too, so maybe his teammates just have a blind spot when it comes to him.

It just doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t even say he knew Sakura that well back then. Even now, he keeps a distance. As a genin, Sasuke had a fondness for her as teammates, but Naruto had always been the one he’d been close to. It was Naruto whom he shared a bond. When they were children, Sakura’s flirtations only served to annoy him. When he was old enough to fully realize the implications, it made him uncomfortable. They weren’t close. She had no reason to love him. She still doesn’t. Back then, he had a goal, and a little girl’s crush would serve nothing more than to get in the way. As adults, Sasuke thought he might try and be a bit kinder. He considered bluntly refusing her again, but he’d put them all through enough. The thought that they put him through enough was pushed aside. It wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d never given much thought to romantic relationships, but Sakura’s dedication showed she cared in an odd way. Maybe one day he could care for her the same.

Suigetsu found it hilarious. Karin, still with a begrudging affection for him she tried to hide, told him it was a stupid plan. Sasuke knew as far as attraction went, he leaned more towards men. He never really found himself looking at women. Suigetsu’s confident flirtations never brought the same discomfort the academy girls or others had. Juugo’s broad shoulders and gentle smile would occasionally inspire a second glance. And his entire team knew about Naruto and knew well enough to keep mum about it. Still, Sasuke figured even if he couldn’t bring himself to be attracted to her, he hoped they’d find a comradery in their time spent together. He had few friends to trust.

A baby really hadn’t been in his plans.

There’d been discussions, talked over his head, about continuing the Uchiha line but he’d ignored most of it. Konoha’s wants didn’t matter much to him. He did as Naruto asked, and Naruto wouldn’t ask that of him. The village wondered when he’d wed once everyone else seemed to. They said his lineage couldn’t possibly die with him. As much as Sasuke pondered on the idea of another Uchiha, someone to pass on what he remembers to, the idea soured when the village pressed him about the matter.

Knowing his own daughter knows nothing of their history only makes the bitterness fester more. Best to leave the past where it is, they say. No need to trouble the next generation with the darkness of the old.

When she was first born, Sasuke considered taking her away. He could run. It didn’t matter if Sasuke ended up under Konoha’s boot, but at the time the thought of his child following in his footsteps didn’t sit well. The idea quickly was washed away by practicality.

On the road with no company, it doesn’t matter if he forgets to eat. It doesn’t matter if he sleeps in the woods. If he speaks to no one for weeks on end, no one cares. His choices are his own when he’s alone. They don’t have to affect anyone else.

A baby would change that.

Konoha would never allow such a thing would be another big reason, even if he somehow managed to convince Sakura.

He never expected to live to adulthood. Being a father had never fully been in the cards for him.

When Sakura approached him, with that same timid smile she never seemed to wear with Naruto, and told him she was pregnant, Sasuke didn’t really know what to think. Well, his first thought had been no more sex. He wasn’t fond of it anyway. It felt more like a chore, proving his suspicions that maybe women just weren’t for him. Before, he’d let Sakura initiate if she wanted, but after that he made the decision to avoid her if possible.

It wasn’t the best plan, but it was the only one he had at the time.

Sasuke never thought he’d be a father and the imminent future of it didn’t help. How does one be a father? His own father had been distant, a clan head, a strong leader. How can he do that with no clan to lead? Sakura’s a good mother. He takes comfort in that, but whenever Naruto asks him to come _home_ , back to Konoha, back to his _family_ , and his daughter—his body locks up.

The first time he held Uchiha Sarada he wanted her to never know the pain he had throughout his life. He whispered his love to her, his forehead against her own, in a tongue he barely remembers. Forgotten prayers his mother and father murmured as if they were forbidden fall from his mouth. Maybe they were forbidden, but no one would’ve spoken of it if it were. Looking into her dark eyes for the very first time, just like his mother’s, Sasuke felt less alone. As she grows, she looks more and more familiar. She has Fugaku’s nose, Itachi’s hair, everyone says she looks so much like her father. Her mother’s looks are in there somewhere, but Uchiha genes have always been strong. She’s an Uchiha, beautiful and alive. She’s an Uchiha and she knows nothing of what that means.

Sometimes looking at her hurts, and Sasuke hates himself for it.

She’s a good girl. Sakura raised her well. Sarada is precious, and that’s more terrifying than any god-like shinobi. Sasuke doesn’t think he can survive losing anyone else precious to him. Sarada seems to be doing well without him. It’s better for her if she stays away.

_Isn’t it?_

Sasuke has a lot of questions, but he can’t ask them. If he speaks many of the doubts rumbling around inside head, they’d try to lock him up again. No…they wouldn’t even try to force him. Naruto’s really the only shinobi able to go toe to toe with him. They wouldn’t need to fight him. A bargaining chip was left behind in Konoha’s carried in Sakura’s arms.

His feet take him to where the Uchiha compound once stood.

There’s nothing there now, but trees, overgrown weeds, and some hints of what used to be there in rubble remains of buildings. If one looks closely, a faded and chipped painting of an Uchiha symbol can barely be seen on the remnants of a wall covered in vines. It’s quiet, further away from the bustle and noise of the city.

When he’d first been left alone after the massacre, the quiet had almost been too much to bear.

A compound, that was more in itself a small town, always had an ambient cascade of noise even in the night. There were the expected footsteps, bumps, thumps, and chatter muffled by walls. Cats yowled, faucets dripped, shutters were closed. The soft singing of lullabies attempting to calm babies’ cries were accompanied by the off-key crooning of men who had one too many drinks. Laughter of all sorts carried itself on the wind. Warm voices welcomed people home. 

There was life in the noise, comforting, warm, life.

After the massacre, things were quieter.

The only footsteps were his. The cats had moved on for the most part. With their providers gone most of the cats had wandered off in search of food. There were a few stragglers, but they never went near him. They were feral and shy, only letting out hisses when he got too close. Some of the faucets still dripped with no one to fix them, but all the shutters had been closed permanently. The only voice was his. He didn’t speak often with no one to speak to, but on occasion he’d converse with himself just to make sure his voice was still there.

Uchiha Sasuke was all alone, a little boy of seven, left to fill the silence.

There was no one to scold him if he ran through the house. His stomps went unheard. The clatter echoed when he dropped a plate, and he alone had to clean up the mess. Thunder was louder as if the whole house shook along with it. Rain came down harder on the roof as if one wrong move would make it cave in. The howling wind sounded too much like aching groans.

There had been so many houses, businesses, spaces empty that no child could fill.

Now, there is nothing to commemorate that the Uchiha once lived here. All the life is gone, save for the nature reclaiming its space. Everything is gone now except for the broken remains. When that is gone, it will seem like no one was ever here at all.

Sasuke tries to remember where his house used to be. Some of the flowers, grown wild and messy unattended, look familiar. He still doesn’t know if he’s in the right spot.

The Uchiha are dead, and it doesn’t matter at all.

He _hates_ it.

Rage boils in his stomach. It creeps up his throat forcing a nasty sneer to his lips. His heart beats too loudly. Fast and strong inside his chest, he notices every rise and fall of his chest all too clearly. It rings in his ears. It _aches_. He hates it all. Sasuke wants to let everyone know. He wants to scream it from the rooftops _. Konoha should burn._ It aches, and aches, and aches. There’s nothing to be done about it. Choking down the old rage never gets easier no matter how much practice he gets. There can’t be any of that in Konoha. He’ll be cut down, and if not him then his daughter if pressed. Naruto can make all the promises he wants, but Sasuke can’t put all his faith into them—not when those two elders still have pull in the village, not when so many promises fell to the wayside.

Sasuke loves Naruto. It’s one of the simplest things to understand in his life. He loves Naruto and his luminescent grin. If he could, he’d always be by his side. He loves the boy who never gave up, the lonely boy who fought to be seen. Sasuke wants every moment of their lives Naruto can give and wishes he could have more. He loves the man who became Hokage, and then tried to keep everything the same. Why would their world need to change? They’re at peace. _Don’t go dredging up the past, Sasuke._ Konoha should burn, but it’s Naruto who stands at the helm of the wretched village. Sasuke loves him and can’t stand him all in one.

Naruto is a coward. They both are. Sasuke hates that more than anything.

But the world is at peace, and in peacetime there’s no room for his hate.

He walks out of the forest and back into the village with his face carefully blank. No one cares if it seems like he doesn’t. They prefer him showing nothing than baring every vulnerable pain he has for them all to see. No one needs his pain, not in peace. He pulls back inward, locking everything he wants to say deep within his chest. It’s gotten easier. He’s had a lot of practice at it. Villagers fear him. They watch him like an animal ready to snap. It doesn’t matter.

They’re unimportant. They’re not precious to him. He has Naruto. He has Sarada. He has Team Taka. Sakura’s a friend of sorts, and Kakashi is…well Kakashi is Kakashi.

It would be understandable if Sarada doesn’t want anything to do with him. They don’t really know one another. Karin, Suigetsu, and even Juugo badgered him with advice, tips, and encouragement that they claimed would be a surefire way to bond with his daughter. Sasuke doesn’t think he needs that much help. He thinks he did fine, but they complain anyway.

It doesn’t seem like she hates him, so maybe one day they can be closer. He knows he isn’t a good father. A good father would never leave his daughters side, but she doesn’t need to know about the dark underbelly that Konoha hides. She can believe the best of the village at least for a little while longer.

Dinner with his daughter is nice. For just a moment, he can pretend everything’s alright.

Sasuke fiddles with his chopsticks as he stares at his food. The rice turns out fine, although a little on the softer side. It’s still good. Sakura was called into work, so it’s only Sarada and him. She looked so cute cooking, face scrunched up all serious, as she stood on a stepstool to take up mantle over the stove. She’s a funny little girl, and Sasuke has a hard time hiding his amusement. He doesn’t want to embarrass her, but any hints of a smile or laugh only seemed to embolden her. Sarada leads their conversation about school and of course Naruto. He told her a few small stories about him. Who knows what Naruto told her about him? It’s only fair.

As they sit across from each other at the table, he catalogs their every similarity. She’s an Uchiha. Anyone could tell even if she didn’t have the symbol on her back. His father used to say the Uchiha have fire in their veins, and Sasuke thinks if he felt Sarada’s face he’d feel those flames. His little girl only gets older and taller without him there. He reminds himself it’s his choice.

_His mother would’ve loved her._

The dinner is good, but he absentmindedly picks at his fish without moving it to his mouth.

“Papa, are you tired.”

Her face is so open, wide eyed and curious, it’s difficult to lie to her.

“A bit.”

Sarada smiles softly. “You should rest then. You shouldn’t think so hard on things. Don’t worry, okay?”

Sasuke blinks and accidentally chuckles as his own words are thrown right back at him.

“I can’t make any promises.”

Her own words mimicked back to Sarada make her pout, and Sasuke resists the urge to poke her cheeks, still round with baby fat. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a habit obviously picked up from Karin, and huffs. Leaning over the table, Sasuke watches bewildered as her small hand reaches up and pats his hair.

“That’s okay. Your hair is a little greasy too.”

Sasuke feels a part of his hair between two fingers, and he can’t argue.

“Inojin had been going around telling everyone you sleep in trees all the time and sell magazines abroad.” She says.

Smiles, no matter how small, come easier in front of her. “I can’t say I’ve ever sold magazines, but I have slept in a tree from time to time.”

There’s so much he doesn’t know about her, but she’s his child. The warmth in his chest wraps around the anger and hate that always simmers in Konoha and forces it to settle. Not smother but settle, and it’s better than nothing.

Konoha can stand for his daughter’s sake.

It will never be his home, but it’s her home. It’s Naruto’s home. It’s not his home, but it’s something.

That can be enough.


	11. Why We Fight

Her dad promised to stay in town for a while.

No matter how long _a while_ is—it’s still more time. 

Sarada was only able to peruse a few of the folders hidden away in her closet. Her mother probably wouldn’t question a plain musty box sitting in her room, but she doesn’t want to take any chances. Most of the papers were boring and unhelpful: damage reports, noise complaints, overnight stays for public drunkenness. Nothing stood out, but Sarada reads them anyway. She doesn’t want to leave any stone unturned. She needs to know why. Why is it like this? What caused the vacantness in her father’s eyes?

There’s something no one’s telling her, and Sarada’s tired of the secrets. 

She wants to make everything better, but she doesn’t know how.

_Why are they shinobi?_

_Why do they obey? What for?_

_Why?_

All those before her and their children after were set onto the path of shinobi. They followed the road they were lead on. Before, war was always on the horizon. The elemental nations had tentative alliances and grudges seeped in a cold war ready to blow at the slightest provocation. There was peace, but it was uneasy. In those days, everyone knew the peace wouldn’t last.

Now, every says there’s peace and accepts it. By all accounts, things are more peaceful. The villages cooperate far more than they ever did. It still feels off. There’s too much that doesn’t seem right. There’s peace, and yet they are shinobi.

Tsunade says they’re all soft now. They don’t know true war.

The next generation truly don’t know war, but the vestiges linger.

Things change, and things stay the same.

The large factories on outskirts of Lower Konoha didn’t exist during the height of the shinobi wars, but now the ash ridden clouds billow from the smokestacks nearly every day. While coal might have fallen away to advancements in electricity, the iron and steelworkers still work harder than ever.

Sarada’s friend, Genkei, lives in the brick terraces only a short walk from most of the factories. Broad and tall for his age, with a crooked smile Sarada only manages to catch glimpses of, he’s an orphan from birth but he’s done his best to get by. Genkei is a blacksmith, well an apprentice really, but Sarada thinks his teacher is trusting his judgement more and more. He’s getting to do more projects alone nowadays. Genkei is more of an acquaintance than a friend considering he’s not much of a talker. He clams up when Sarada tries to be casual with him, but he’s always been kind to her. He only forgets his discomfort when Sarada grills him on the specifics of his projects. She doesn’t know a single thing about heating and cooling metals, but it makes him comfortable, so she listens.

Sarada listens as he bemoans the drop in value of smithing. There may be peace, but it seems there are still missions. Maybe there will always be missions. Their world isn’t much different not even twenty years after the fourth shinobi war. There might be cooperation, and innovation, but who needs handcrafted swords when the factories turn out a steady supply of standard grade shuriken? It’s all assembly line now. Genkei’s teacher says the next war probably won’t even be fought with kunai. There are new inventions every day, and they can channel chakra as good as any high tier shinobi.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

The factories on the outskirts of Lower Konoha keep the village afloat. Not many really takes notice of it. It’s not a job with showy jutsu. There aren’t any impressive stories of bravery and strength like what children are told of shinobi. Children are told to dream to be shinobi. They say shinobi are heroes.

The men from the manufacturing plants try to wipe the soot from their faces. They shake the dust from their hair before trudging home. The women tie their hair back and roll up their sleeves; their hands rougher than most. There’s always something to do even when the workday is done. The children run barefoot collecting cans and scrap metal for a couple ryo. They go to the local school when there’s time.

There are never enough hours in the day. It’s hard work, tiring work.

Genkei says it’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it. Shinobi might have their jutsu, but someone has to put the shirts on their backs.

Even the strongest shinobi can’t make rice appear out of thin air.

The workers, after they’ve had a few drinks at the end of a long day, like to talk.

Sarada is a listener by nature. She likes hearing stories, even stories that don’t involve her clan she’s happy to hear. It doesn’t matter if she’s not expected to reply. That’s not what she wants.

It’s enough to listen.

“Back when everyone was fighting, craftsmen were churning out weapons like they were nothing. There was still heart to it, ya know. There was an art in each sword whether the shinobi gave a damn or not. It don’t feel like that for steelworkers these days.”

“We’re still churning out weapons, but so much more. What’s it matter anyhow? Fast and hard every day working till you can’t and for what? I knew a man who worked repairing those train lines. It cut him clean down the middle and they didn’t even wait long to get his blood off the tracks. You think the village cared about his family? Not one bit!”

A man spits at the ground. “Can’t be any peace between warlords can there? Only a matter of time.”

The bartender usually chases her out when she sees her and says Sarada can come back when she’s older. Sarada always comes back, but she obeys even when Mr. Kazama’s men try to kick up a fuss for her.

She just wants to know what peace is.

* * *

Sarada raises her hand in class and waits. Inojin asks if she needs help with her worksheet, but she shakes her head. Shikadai raises a brow but doesn’t comment. He elbows Inojin to hush and stops Chōchō before she can open her mouth. Sarada holds up her hand casually, but quietly waiting for Shino-sensei to notice her. It takes a moment. She doesn’t usually speak up in class, and her fellow classmates notice her first. The giggles and whispers turn Shino’s attention away from the board, and he finally sees her raised hand.

“Yes, Sarada, do you need something?”

“Why are we shinobi?”

Shino gives her the standard answer. “Well, to protect our home. The entire village is a family and the shinobi of the village love and protect the village. That is our will of fire.”

“It’s the hopes and dreams of the prior generation passed to the next!” Boruto states proudly. “Like the children who will protect the village after, ya know.”

“My Uncle says the will of fire gives shinobi strength to continue fighting and building strength! You protect the village even if you have’ta die!”

“Loyalty to Konoha, right? That’s what my Mom said. Am I right, Shino-sensei?”

Sarada waits for the classroom to settle before speaking. “Why fight? Why die? What or whom are we protecting the village from? What does loyalty mean and how does one thing, a place, earn it? I just don’t get it.”

_The hopes and dreams passed from the prior generation to the next._

What of the next generations own hopes and dreams?

What of the problems passed down, generation to generation, and never looked at too closely?

Shino falters. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again as he struggles to find an appropriate answer. Why they fight is easy enough to answer: to protect the village, but the other questions stop him in his tracks. He crosses his arms and leans against his desk as he thinks, but the other students interject with their own opinions.

Boruto, helpful as ever, flicks a pencil at her. “Quit being a weirdo! It’s easy you’re just thinkin’ too hard.”

Chōchō tosses the pencil back with force and sticks her tongue out at him.

Many of the children try to give their own answers. Most are answers she’s all heard before. They parrot their parents, copying things they’re parents have been told before, or they just tell her she’s asking strange questions.

The class is silenced with a sharp whistle. “That’s enough!” Shino says sharply. “Why? Well, you all contributed wonderfully to the conversation, but I think it’s time to move on from it now. We should get back to our regular schedule.”

Sarada raises her hand again, and Shino reluctantly gestures for her to speak.

She asks. “But what is the purpose of shinobi?”

Shino sighs. “I said that’s enough, Sarada. Maybe you should ask or mother, or perhaps your father. That might be a better question for them.” He claps his hands to gain the class’ wanning attention. “How about we move into groups for your history projects, hm?”

Sarada slumps into her chair and doesn’t move until Shikadai taps her on the shoulder. He jumps over the table behind her to grab a seat while Onikuma Enko slides into the chair next to her.

“You asked me once why shinobi train in peacetime, and I didn’t have an answer to it then.” Shikadai balances his pencil between two fingers, but Sarada knows he’s only putting up a façade of nonchalance. His mother claims he’s just trying to copy his father. “To be honest with you, I still don’t have an answer. I didn’t really get it then either. My dad is a shinobi, and his dad before him, and my mom and uncles too—it’s just sort of what you do. I thought of being a diplomat for a while, but I could have that choice with my mom from Suna and Uncle Gaara. I didn’t want to let Dad down though. I guess when you really think about it you wonder. Aren’t there more important things?”

Sarada rests her chin on her hands. “Every says there’s peace, isn’t there?’

Shikadai nods. “Yeah, and that times are different now. I guess that’d be troublesome if you’ve got questions about it.”

Enko interjects. “I can’t say I get it too much, but it does make you wonder when we’re supposed to be about protecting—who the enemy is. I think about that sometimes. Have you been thinking a lot about that, Sarada?”

It doesn’t matter anymore. Class won’t help answer the question. Sarada huffs but doesn’t reply. She’s been called weird enough.

“Why don’t we do a project on that? It seems like it could be cool.” Enko tugs bashfully at her gloves. “I know we’re a bit behind the others, but I think it would go fast if we did something interesting. The history of shinobi or like why there are shinobi could be neat.”

“I feel like that’s too broad.” Shikadai replies. “I guess we could turn into a thesis, like how one clan looks at shinobi, and how they’ve been shinobi.” He turns to Sarada. “Maybe the Uchiha. That’s your clan, right? I mean…The Nara would be a bore since everybody knows my dad, although I guess there’s the Onikuma for you, Enko.”

Enko blushes and shakes her head rapidly. “Oh, no my clan hadn’t really been shinobi till we moved to Konoha. We used to live in the mountains, and we were nomadic at one point. I think that’d be great! Not that your last idea wasn’t interesting, Shikadai, but we should pick something that’ll keep the class engaged.”

Shikadai’s last idea had been looking into architectural changes in the Land of Fire over time. It was quickly vetoed.

Sarada knows so little herself, and there’s really no one to ask. Still, if she manages to find out how her clan became shinobi, and why maybe it might help. It might bring some answers. The Uchiha are a mystery, but she doesn’t want everyone to ignore them—not like how they seem to ignore everything else.

“Okay…let’s do that.”


End file.
